


The Devil You Know

by Awriterwrites



Series: Devil in your Smile (it's chasing me) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A wee bit of Gore, Blood Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Slow Burn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry walked slowly to the door, an eerie sense of déjà vu rolling over him. “Who is it?” he called out through the varnished maple.</p>
<p>“Can Harry come out to play?” The voice on the other side of the door was light and airy, musical, with a raspy edge.</p>
<p>Louis.</p>
<p>Harry felt his pulse race a little before he found words. “Harry’s not home right now.” He smirked.</p>
<p>There was a pause and then a light tap-tap-tap on the door, right at Harry’s ear. “Bullshit.”</p>
<p>****<br/>Louis is a vampire.  Harry is probably too curious for his own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was so FREAKING fun to write. I have wanted to write a vampire fic FOREVER and I finally got my chance. This fic is seriously the one I am the most proud of to date, for several reasons. The first of which is that the prompter requested no smut. And no smut, to me, was like a death sentence! Kidding, kidding. But, I considered it a challenge. And let me tell you, I rose to the challenge. I worked really hard on this and I hope I did the prompt justice. 
> 
> The second reason I am proud of this fic is because the story is like a real honest to god story--not just a snippet of a story or some smut with a tad bit of story layered underneath. It's a REAL LIVE STORY. 
> 
> The last reason I'm proud of it is because I worked so closely with my beta, @gettingaphdinlarry, and we just...really created something I think is truly phenomenal (at the risk of sounding egotistical--I'll say this conservatively). She pushed me and challenged me and helped me find confidence in myself and my writing. So, thank you for that. I also have to thank my cheering squad @myownspark and @twopoppies--without their support writing wouldn't be nearly half as fun. 
> 
> The artwork in this fic has been generously provided by the one and only twopoppies. Remember to give her a holler if you like what she's done here!
> 
> So...panlarrie, I hope you like it. I loved your prompts and I created this with love in my heart. 
> 
> The prompt:  
> Vampires are myths told to scare away children but Harry is fascinated by them. Growing up he read every book and watched every show relating to vampires. When he moves with his two best friends to London, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne spike his attention. Harry slowing getting more in touch with them and falling for Louis when things go wrong. People start going missing and found drained of blood Harry is sure it's vampires on the loose, so he goes looking for himself. After almost getting caught by a rival vampire cult Harry learns Louis dark secret. 
> 
> And, so, without futher ado...Enjoy!

“Again? Seriously? Again?”

Harry looked at his mate Niall from under his heavily made up bright green eyes. “What?” he leaned forward in the mirror and inspected the wine-colored lipstick he had applied earlier. It really set off the matte white powder he’d pressed to the bridge of his nose, cheekbones and forehead.

“Every year, mate. Every feckin’ year.” Niall shook his head and tossed back a shot of Jagermeister. Harry grimaced at the sight of it. Who in their right mind would drink that vile concoction when there was a frosty pitcher full of kiwi strawberry margarita right next to them?

“So what?” Harry shot back. He wasn’t worried about what anyone thought of his costume. He knew he looked good. And that’s all that really mattered.

Niall came around from behind the island countertop in their shared kitchen. “So what? I’ll tell you so what,” he said, smoothing down his Julius Caesar toga. Harry noticed he’d already spilled something sticky and orange over the front of it. “Ever since I’ve known you, practically all our lives, Harry, all our lives! You’ve only dressed as one thing for Halloween.”

Harry smiled his most winning smile—it was a good one, if he did say so himself—“And I repeat: So. What.”

Niall blew out an exasperated breath and looked over his shoulder at their other flatmate, Ed, as he came into the living room/dining room/kitchen area of their cramped flat. “Ed, tell him.”

Ed looked sweaty and flustered, his crushed imitation velvet Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume slightly askew on his short frame. “What he said,” he muttered, heading to the fridge.

“Look,” Harry began, in that tone that his friends recognized all too well. It was his ‘you can’t tell me what to do tone’. “I like my costume. I look good in my costume. My costume and I are…well, we are _one_. A match made in heaven, or hell, if you will.” He snickered into the back of his hand, careful not to smear his carefully applied makeup.

Ed took a long drink from his beer and eyed Harry up and down. “You do look smashing mate.”

Harry grinned maniacally and gestured crudely at Niall. “See? See? I told you!”

Niall just shook his head and poured himself another shot. The orange light from the light up pumpkins on the countertop made his skin look like he had bathed in cheese puffs.

“Just sayin’. Wouldn’t hurt to branch out once in awhile.”

Harry was just about to reply, another smartarsed remark on the edge of his tongue, when their doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Harry bellowed, racing for the door, despite the fact that neither Niall or Ed had moved from their spots, or had even given a sign that they heard the bell.

Harry ran to the little video monitor that rested on the tiny strip of wall next to their front door. He could see some of their friends crowded around the door downstairs through the foggy camera. “Who vis eeet?” he said, in his heaviest, campiest accent.

“Trick or Treat!!!” came the reply, albeit a little static riddled through the speaker.

He buzzed them in and threw the door open wide, waiting for his friends to make their way to their third floor walkup. He could hear them, although they weren’t as loud as he expected. They were talking in hushed tones and hurrying, from the sounds of it.

Just as Nick rounded the corner at the top of the landing, Harry jumped out and yelled, “I vant to suck your blood!”

“Haha. Really bloody funny Styles. Now shove off and lemme in,” Nick said, bristling past, rather quickly, making room for Daisy and Alexa, who kissed Harry quickly on the cheek and rushed by him to get into the apartment.

Harry stared after them for a moment, wondering where all of their Halloween spirit was, when he felt a cool rush of air pass over him. It prickled his skin and made him shiver all over. He was just about to comment on it, ask his friends if they remembered to shut the door downstairs or not, when his neighbors came into view.

Harry felt like it was a moment in one of those movies, one of those stupid Hollywood box office ones, where everything slows down and gets a little blurred. The music starts playing, eerie and haunting, in time to the materialization of the actor on the screen. What he was seeing felt _cinematic_.

The three men that lived at the end of their hall were dressed all in black and were led by the smallest of the three. It was always like that, the few times Harry had seen them. The small one was in the front, with the two taller boys fanning out behind him as if they were in some kind of perpetual triangular formation. The boy in the front stared at him directly, and his icy-blue stare felt like shards of winter ice pricking at Harry’s skin. Harry noticed that he was dressed in what appeared to be designer clothing, all neatly tailored with sharp lines and painstaking creases. Everything on his body was form fitting, showcasing his compact frame with startling severity. Harry registered, in his frozen state, that the man with the blue eyes was curvy and muscular, with sharp cheekbones and pale smooth skin. He was arresting, in a chilling stop-right-there-in-your-tracks sort of way.

The two men behind Blue Eyes both had dark hair and amber colored eyes and were dressed very similarly. Form-fitting black suits, completely black on black on black and they held Harry’s eyes as they walked by. Harry held his breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak.

The three of them were devastatingly handsome. Like, the most handsome men Harry had ever laid eyes on. And they smelled _amazing_. Like freesia and butter-soft leather and a sharp spice that reminded Harry of something he’d eaten before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

Then the moment was gone.

The men were gone, leaving behind them just the pale cloud of their aromatic scent and a bitter chill, most likely carried in with them from the autumn weather, Harry thought. He was just entering his apartment when he heard one of them, Blue Eyes he was pretty sure, call out—in a voice that sounded like church bells—“Nice costume.”

Harry whipped his head around quickly to see if he really heard what he thought he heard. All he saw was an empty hallway and the black cat wreath hanging from the door at the end of the hall swinging slightly in the wake of the door shutting closed.

Scratching his head, he entered his apartment and saw his friends clustered around the island. They all had some sort of drink in their hand and they were speaking in hushed tones. Alexa turned to face Harry as he ambled up to the makeshift bar. “A vampire, again Harry?” Her voice dripped with lucid sarcasm.

“What?” Harry asked good naturedly, his mind still on the three men living at the end of the hall. “Ni?” he questioned his friend.

“Hm?” Niall was licking salt off his hand before tossing back a shot of tequila. Stomach of steel, that one had, mixing his liquors, Harry thought.

“What do you know about the blokes at the end of the hall? The three GQ model-types?”

Nick scoffed and patted his quiff back into place (it hadn’t been out of place). “We were just talking about them. Proper weirdos, they are.”

Harry searched his friend’s face for the joke. There was none. “What do you mean?”

“Just gave me the creeps, that’s all,” Nick said plainly, picking a piece of fuzz off the back of Daisy’s kitty costume.

Daisy plucked the stem off of the maraschino cherry she was rolling around in her mouth. “Yeah. Especially the short one with the weird eyes.” She shivered and scrunched her eyes shut tight. “Strange.”

Harry nodded his head absently. He didn’t really think they were strange or creepy. Just…different. He looked at Niall.

“Yeah, no…dunno much about them. They were already livin’ here when me n’ Ed moved in. Hardly ever see them. Never really see or hear anything from that end of the hall…’S quiet, you know? Keep to themselves mostly, if ya ask me.” He poured another shot. Jesus. That had to be four? Five? Harry was really glad they’d decided to put sheets over the furniture. Niall was a late night, nodding off on the couch kind of puker.

“So, Harry darling,” Alexa began, adjusting her flight attendant’s cap, “about the Vampire obsession…”

Harry just walked away. He looked good. Alright?

***

“So the thing is, Anne Rice didn’t like, even set out to like…” Harry licked his lips, eyes manic and bright. “Write a book about queer vampires, you know?”

The guy leaning up against the wall alongside the bookshelf nodded slowly, sipping from his drink demurely. Harry took it as an invitation to continue. “And like, Lestat sort of just transcends gender, right?” The guy stifled a yawn.

“So anyway…I mean, Lestat could have anyone. The world was his metaphorical oyster, right?” Harry laughed, a little too loudly. “So he did. Have everyone! That’s kind of the beauty in Rice’s writing. She was like, queer positive before it was…you know…in fashion.” Harry drained his margarita, looking down at his empty class in dismay.

The guy, slight in build, with soft blond hair and watery gray eyes looked up at Harry, a slightly bored drawl to his voice when he said, “So…are we gonna go to your room, or what?”

Harry shuffled back, dropping his hand from the wall next to the guy’s head. “Um…what?”

“Well, you know…you’ve been talking about vampires and shit for over a half an hour. And you’re hot. I’m hot. I’ve been here, pretending to listen to you drone on and on now forever…and I just wanna know, are we going to you know…?” he said the last few words slowly, as if Harry were incapable of understanding the English language. When Harry didn’t answer right away he continued, “’Cause if we’re not…I gotta jet. Early morning class tomorrow.”

Harry blinked his eyes a few times slowly before he answered, “No. No, we’re not going to sleep together. Erm…”

“Andrew,” the thin boy dressed like Robin Hood said.

“Andrew. Right. I just…I thought you were into, like the whole vampire thing too, you know? You, um…said you liked my costume and…” Harry slipped a hand through his long tangled curls.

“Mate. It was a chat up line. That’s all.” Andrew slid off the wall and walked around Harry, crossing to the other side of the room where he found a group of Ed’s uni friends. Harry watched him and blinked his eyes slowly again. He blew out a frustrated breath and went in search of some water to drink.

He faced the sink as he took a long drink of tepid water from his plastic “Vampires are for Lovers” cup. He felt hot breath billow across the back of his neck. He turned and looked into Niall’s crinkly blue eyes.

“What’s up bloodsucker?” Niall quipped, teetering slightly, grabbing on to Harry’s bold shoulders for support.

“Not much Ni. Just contemplating my life’s choices so far. You know. Nothing new,” Harry said.

Niall reached out and tugged on a corkscrew curl that framed the left side of Harry’s face. It snapped up and fell perfectly back into place. “Can you contemplate them while you pop off to the store to get some ice?”

Niall closed his eyes and put his hands under his chin in a gesture of prayer. “Please?” he whined, “Pretty please?”

Harry rolled his eyes and smacked a wet kiss on his friend’s ruddy cheek. “You’re a bastard,” he said, brushing past him.

“But you love me!” Niall called after him, emptying the last of the ice into his cup.

Harry went to the coat closet in the foyer and checked his makeup in the mirror. He really did look good as a vampire. His normally pale skin was even paler, brushed alabaster with the matte powder he’d found in the drama department at the school he worked at. His eyes were lined in kohl and covered in thick no-clump mascara. He always did his sister Gemma’s makeup when they lived at home, so he was kind of a natural. His sheer black shirt opened to his navel, the silver crosses and skulls he wore in layers gleaming against his smooth skin. He wore his trademark black skinny jeans and heeled black boots.

The best part, the piece de resistance, was the tiny puncture marks at his neck. He actually had them tattooed on his skin, an eternal mark of the childhood fascination that never went away. They were perfect little pinpricks of merlot wine colored ink, hidden by his hair, just below his ear, dotted at his jugular. There was one small droplet of blood there too. That he drew on, for effect. It was small and tear shaped, a scarlet shade of red that really popped against his pale skin. He drew two complimentary drops, using the red lip pencil from the same drama cabinet, at the corner of his mouth and to the side of his chin, almost perpendicular to the beauty mark above his jaw.

Satisfied that he still looked every bit the suave prince of the night, he left the crowded, hot apartment to jog down to the all night corner market. He could hear the bass from their stereo system pounding through the walls and stairwell. He was glad that they’d thought to invite all their neighbors. Their building was a tall brownstone with three floors, three flats on each. Most of the neighbors had popped in already, save for Mrs. Harker next door (she was pushing eighty and probably couldn’t hear well, Harry thought) and the mysterious trio of hot men from the end of the hall.

The icy October wind lifted Harry’s hair from his face and neck like a demented Halloween dervish. Harry pulled his black and white striped wool coat tighter and walked quickly toward the corner. As he turned the corner to enter the ramshackle little market, he saw the shadow of blue and red lights against the buildings.

Curiosity got the better of him, so he approached the taped-off section of sidewalk slowly. There was a police officer standing there, warding off look-ee-loos (like himself). “Good evening officer,” Harry said cordially, giving the officer that winning smile of his (coming in handy tonight, that was).

“Nothing to see here,” the gruff officer said, without looking up at Harry. Harry would have laughed at the cliche, if it weren’t for the stretcher being carried from the alley just beyond the caution tape at his waist.

“Hope no one was really hurt,” Harry said as a matter of distraction, hoping the officer would keep ignoring him so that he could get a good look at the crime scene.

“Move along, move along!” the officer chided, still writing on his pad, thick grey brows like fat caterpillars above his eyes.

Harry was about to give up on getting any information as he noticed that the stretcher was covered with a white sheet. He gulped and held his breath. A dead person. Just a block from his flat. Tragic. And terrifying, he thought belatedly. Whoever was out there, the murderer, could still be there. Or, what if it was a tragic love story, spurned lover roaming the streets with the weapon of passion still clutched in his shaking hands…or what if…

As his mind was spinning out of control, a rush of damp wind hurled itself down the isolated side street, pushing Harry’s hair all around his face, whipping right through the thin layer of his coat. It also lifted the crisp white sheet from the corpse’s body, exposing a waxy white face with a shock of bleached blonde hair above it, matted with dirt and dried blood. Lifeless eyes stared down the street at Harry and beyond, but that’s not what caught Harry’s attention. That’s not what stole Harry’s breath from his chest, making his lungs burn and his fingers tremble. No. It was something else entirely.

On the side of the victim’s neck—that what it was after all, a victim—were two perfect puncture marks.

Just like the tattoo adorning the side of Harry’s neck.

Only instead of drawn on blood, carefully constructed in the light of a cozy bedroom, there was real blood, and not just a drop. There were twin tracks of dried blood, that looked like sister rivers of brownish red that ran parallel down the side of the woman’s long neck until they met near her clavicle, and pooled there in a macabre lake of coagulating demise.

Harry stared at the blood, then back at the puncture marks and then at the woman’s mouth. Her mouth was frozen in a silent scream, and although her eyes no longer held any sign of fear or struggle, her mouth and that little pool of blood told Harry that she died gruesomely.

The officer shoved him then, breaking him out of his spell. “Oi! Are ya hard a hearin’ or what? Bugger off I said!”

Harry stumbled backward and turned back the way he came. He was completely lost in thought, remembering the dead woman’s eyes, mouth and neck. Conjoined together in some kind of ghastly trio that marked her passing. He thumbed along his neck, where his tattoo lay unassuming, jumping in time to his steady, very much alive, pulse. His thumb came back stained red and for a minute Harry recoiled at the sight. Then he remembered it was Halloween. It was Halloween and he was dressed as a vampire.

Again.

Only this time it felt more like something prophetic than fantasy.


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s on the menu tonight Hazza?” Ed stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing his sleep rumpled t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.

Harry shook his head and mumbled under his breath, “Must be nice to sleep all day.”

Ed leaned up and kissed Harry on the cheek, darting his tongue out at the last second to lick a fat, wet stripe along his jaw. “Ew! Disgusting!” Harry shrieked, brandishing his spatula like a weapon.

“Come on, give us a hint…what are ya feeding us tonight?” Ed whined and settled on one of the barstools opposite where Harry was cooking.

Harry scratched at an itch on the top of his foot with the big toe of his other. The first thing he’d done when he got home from teaching today was strip out of his work clothes and put on loose track shorts and a threadbare white t-shirt. He opened a bottle of Shiraz and got to work on dinner. He’d grade papers later, after a few glasses of vino and a good meal.

“I’m making, if you must know Edward, beef tips in a marsala reduction with root vegetables and homemade lavender and vanilla bean ice cream for dessert.” Harry stirred the rich sauce on the stove and sipped from his nearly empty glass before turning to his friend.

“Marry me?” Ed said.

“If only you weren’t straight.” Harry deadpanned, leaning down to check the vegetables. The onions and carrots looked just about perfect, although the parsnips were not quite caramelized enough for his liking.

Niall came through the front door just then, his cheeks ruddy from the cold outside and his eyes watery. “It’s a windy mother out there tonight!” he said as he started to take off his layers. “Jesus Christ, smells good in here.”

Ed reached out, snagged Harry’s wine glass and drained it. Harry cursed himself for leaving it in his reach. “We are eating some masterpiece Harry’s gone and created,” Ed said, his lips holding just a shadow of red wine.

Niall pulled off his sweater. “Sounds good—I’m gonna take a quick shower. Do I have time Haz?”

Harry turned the oven down and reached for the half full bottle of wine. “Yup. Be ready in about 10 minutes. Beer or wine with dinner?”

Niall’s voice echoed down the hall. “Do you even have to ask that?”

Harry smiled and pulled out a beer. Ed made grabby hands so Harry got him one too. He refilled his glass and leaned against the counter. “When is your next gig?”

“Friday. At Lucilles,” Ed said, opening the bottle quickly.

“Hm.” Harry went through his mental calendar. He was pretty sure he was free Friday.

The next few moments were a flurry of activity as Harry plated dinner and got everything set up on their tiny dining room table, which was really just an oversized desk with a tablecloth on it. The table served as the border between their living room and dining room, which was really just one rather small room. It was cozy, though, and Harry couldn’t complain.

Ever since Harry moved in with Niall and Ed at the end of summer, he’d never been happier. Niall was a year ahead of him in school, and he’d graduated with his degree in music management last year. Niall had met Ed through work and they’d hit it off right away. They’d lived together for a year until Harry called Niall looking for somewhere to crash while he got settled in London and his new primary school teaching job. The flat was small, two bedrooms really, but they managed to create a third bedroom out of the tiny office at the end of the hall. Harry fit a twin bed and a three-drawer chest in it and not much else.

But it was perfect, Harry found himself thinking, looking at his friends around their small dinner table. Perfect because every night Harry got to come home and eat dinner with his two best friends and perfect because they were never alone. Harry liked to be with people. And Niall and Ed were two of the best ones he knew.

“They found another body.” Ed’s voice brought Harry out of his fuzzy happy daydream.

“Yeah? Where at?” Niall asked, polishing off his roast in one huge bite.

“About a block from the last one.”

Harry grimaced, pushing his plate back. “That’s 4 now since Halloween.” Ed nodded while Niall just took a long drink of his beer to wash down the remnants of his meal. Harry finally spoke again, because someone had to. “Same as the others?”

“Dunno. Radio just said that the cops are treating it like a serial killer case now.”

“Well, fuck,” Niall muttered, “I knew this neighborhood was a bit dodgy when we moved in but never thought it’d be home to a serial killer.”

Harry had completely lost his appetite. Since seeing the woman near the convenience store on Halloween, he’d been plagued with nightmares. Soulless eyes stared at him in his unconsciousness and sometimes he could feel phantom pain where his bite mark tattoo was on the side of his neck. He’d always startle awake at the sharp piercing throb over his jugular, feeling drugged and sleep heavy, unable to focus on anything but the ache in his neck for a few long moments.

“Haz?”

Harry realized he was doing it again. More and more lately he’d find himself zoning out or completely missing from whole parts of his day. Not long parts—just a few minutes here and there where he was lost in reverie or remembering some fragment of a dream. But he couldn’t quite grasp what it was he was remembering. It was more of a _feeling_ , really. He’d get a little woozy and his vision would kind of white out around the edges so that he couldn’t see clearly. It was a little disconcerting, but he had chalked it up to lack of sleep lately, under pressure at work to finish a few projects with his kids before the winter holidays. He made a mental note to make an appointment with his doctor just to be safe.

“Hm? I was just thinking about work stuff,” Harry lied.

“Was just saying to Nialler here that I wanted to jump down to the pub for a pint. You up for it?” Ed’s voice was light and soft, soothing to Harry’s ears.

“Um…no. Nah. Think I’ll just stay in. Catch up on some grading, you know?” Harry pulled his full bottom lip between two fingers. He wasn’t feeling very sociable. He just wanted to go to bed. He was feeling more and more tired by the minute. Maybe he should go to the doctor sooner rather than later. “Feel like I might be coming down with something anyway…”Niall looked up from his phone where he was texting someone. “Alright?” Concern spanned his fair features.

Harry felt his heart swell. He had great friends. “Yeah. Don’t worry, Ni. ’M just tired I think. You guys go out and have fun.”

“I’ll do the dishes, Haz,” Ed said good-naturedly, kissing Harry loudly on the top of the head.

Harry smiled as Ed ruffled his hair. He stood up and felt his bones creak loudly and the heaviness of his limbs pull him down. “’M actually gonna…” He yawned loudly. “Gonna get into bed. Maybe get up early and do that grading.”

Niall’s eyes followed him as he picked up his plate and some of the serving plates to take to the kitchen.

“’M fine. Really.” Harry forced himself to grin at Niall.

Niall smiled back. “Ok. If you’re sure. Just call or text if you need us, yeah?”

“Yeah. Ok.” Harry drifted down the hall to his tiny bedroom. He was so tired he didn’t even stop to brush his teeth. He fell into bed and didn’t remember even leaving the table.

***

The damp London air pressed in around him, cloaking every inch of his skin like a heavy, wet, woolen blanket. Everything glistened with a slick black sheen. It was hard to tell if everything was wet from the ever present rain or from the moisture hanging in the air.

Tonight felt different than the other nights. Heavier. Darker. Tonight felt _savage_. Felt like ripping something apart, warm and wet, with just enough resistance to make it thrilling, worth the fight.

He looked down at his hands and could see that they were covered in the shiny black that permeated the world all around. He was vaguely aware of someone screaming in the distance. The kind of shriek that came from those stupid horror movies his sister always made him watch with her when they were kids. But it was far away, muffled, not his concern. The viscous black on his hands was dripping slowly to the dark pavement below. Plop. Plop. Plop. The drops gathered in a widening pool beneath his knees.

The sky parted for just a moment overhead, revealing the full moon lurking beyond the wispy clouds which curled like smoke in the night sky. With a start he realized the black was really violent crimson red. So dark it was almost black. But it wasn’t. It was red. Red like blood.

In that moment he realized the screaming wasn’t coming from somewhere else; somewhere far away. The screaming was coming from him. He was screaming and his throat was clogged with raw scraping terror. He was immobilized with fear and the realization that he was covered in blood, so much it was dripping, pooling below him. His vision swam and the smell assaulted his senses. The iron wet earth smell of it surrounded him; leached itself into his skin, becoming a part of him.

The world was dipped in darkness again and for an agonizing minute he couldn’t see anything. Nothing in front of him, not his hands, not the blood. Nothing. Then he smelled lilacs and something definitively masculine and he felt cool, pleasantly cool all over his body and without fighting it, knowing he was safe, so safe, he slipped under, letting himself fall into strong arms and surrendering his weight and fear and undeniable need for destruction…he let all of it go and welcomed the darkness.

***

Harry shot upright in his bed, clutching his neck and biting back a scream. His body was covered in sweat and he could feel his pulse racing. His heart hammered in his chest and his throat ached and his entire body felt weary. So weary. Weak and completely drained.

Flopping back on the damp mattress, Harry struggled to catch his breath. When he finally realized he’d been dreaming he inhaled and exhaled deeply over and over again, letting the nightmare float away with his breath. He turned on his mattress and fluffed his pillow. His sweat-covered body shivered without his blanket, so he pulled it up under his chin. The light coming through the window was grey and heavy. Most likely another few hours until his alarm would sound. Burrowing deeper in his bed, Harry closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

As he finally drifted off, some fifteen minutes later, his arm flopped to the side, hand open in a soft curl of fingers.

His palm was streaked with blood.


	3. Chapter 3

The doctor he'd seen yesterday had proclaimed him as healthy as a horse. A little anemic, but nothing too abnormal. He was advised to take an iron supplement and up his intake of iron-rich foods. When Harry had pressed his physician, telling him how tired he was, the doctor said he was probably just stressed. The pressure of having a full time teaching job, life on his own, adult responsibilities—he was told to try to take it easy, let himself rest more than usual.

So, he was resting. He was lying on the couch on a Saturday night, covered in three blankets watching something on TV that he’d lost interest in hours ago. Niall and Ed were both out, leaving him alone and with his thoughts. A knock on the door roused him from his sluggish state.

Harry shuffled to the door, pulling the tattered hem of his long-sleeved black t-shirt over his loose gray joggers. His hair was tangled around his face in unkempt curls and he distantly realized he hadn’t had dinner yet today. He opened the door a crack, startled to see the man from down the hall standing on the other side.

“Um…hello?” Harry’s voice was rough from disuse, shock evident in his tone.

It was the shorter of the three, the one with the piercing blue eyes. He was smirking, the lines around his eyes gathered in mirth. “Hello, mate.”

His voice was like honeyed bluebells moving in a summer wind. Harry’s entire body reacted to the sound of it. It was nearly hypnotic, is what it was. And Harry felt himself completely entranced as he opened the door fully.

“Alright?” The man quirked an eyebrow, smirk widening into a full grin as he leaned against the door frame.

Harry, finally remembering himself, moved backward and beckoned the man inside. “Won’t you come in?”

The man considered it for a moment and walked inside, brushing past Harry so that he stood in the tiny foyer. “Nice place. Looks…different. From ours, I mean,” the smaller man observed.

Harry left the door ajar and looked the man over. Just like all of the other times he’d seen him and his friends, he was dressed head to toe in black. This time he wore black jeggings that clung to his thickly muscled thighs and shapely bum. He wore a black Harley Davidson t-shirt with a skull and eagle motif on the front. He was barefoot. For as slight as he was, he exuded a kind of imposing strength, almost as if he took up more room than his physical body actually filled. He was _mesmerizing_.

The man turned and faced Harry, still gawking at him from behind. “So, I bet you’re wondering why I’ve turned up here at your flat at nine o’clock on a Saturday, hm?”

That voice. Harry felt like he could bathe in it. It was so sensual, soothing, was the thing. It made Harry feel calm. Subdued. Floaty.

“Um…” For some reason Harry couldn’t seem to formulate words. He was caught up in the man’s voice and his bright blue eyes that seemed to be laughing at him right now. Yep, definitely laughing. His mouth had joined in, as a matter of fact. He was giggling at Harry now. Harry folded his arms across his chest. He had his pride after all. Even if he didn’t, or couldn’t, say much to the contrary, completely immobilized by the creature in front of him.

“Right.” The man stopped giggling, but still smiled broadly. Harry couldn’t help but notice how perfectly white his tiny sharp teeth looked. And even from here, three feet away, Harry could smell that flowery spicy leather scent of his. It made him want to rub all over him, kind of like a dog. Which was…disturbing. “I popped over because we need another hand for cards. Zayn saw your mates leave a while later and I took a chance to see if you were home.”

“You need…another?” Harry scratched his head. He really was tired. He wasn’t sure what the pretty boy in front of him was asking. “Cards?”

“Mate, are you ok? You seem a little, I don’t know. Stunned?” The man ran a hair through his soft, fluffy hair. At least Harry thought it looked soft. It probably was. It probably smelled good too. Hair like that usually did. The man snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “Did you hit your head or summat on your way to answer the door?”

Harry shook his head, feeling loose curls tickle the back of his neck. “No. I’m just…I was sort of napping, I guess? Resting?”

“Hm. Resting. Ok,” he spoke slowly, “so…what do you think?” He looked at Harry expectantly. When Harry didn’t answer, but just blinked his eyes, the man prompted, “Are you in?”

Harry twisted the knob in his hand behind him, feeling the hard edge of the door rub against his calf. He had always wondered what the beautiful boys down the hall were like. And it wasn’t like he was exactly doing much else. So…why not?

“Yeah. Ok. Sure.” Harry nodded his head, smiling slowly back at the boy in front of him.

The man grinned again, and it was really contagious because Harry found himself grinning right back. Harry’s neighbor pivoted on his foot and walked into Harry’s kitchen, Harry trailing behind, watching as he opened their fridge and started rummaging through it. Blue eyes popped up over the edge of the door. “You don’t mind do you?”

The boy was cocky, that was for sure, Harry found himself thinking, but it was endearing as opposed to annoying. It showed a self-assuredness that Harry always admired in people. “What? No…erm. Help yourself. I should…uh. Change? Yeah. ’M going to go change.”

The man backed out of the refrigerator, holding three Stella Artois and two bottles of Crispin Cider. “Nah. Don’t bother. Zayn’s practically naked and Liam? Liam won’t care. He’s too busy trying to keep his clothes on to care what you’re wearing.”

Harry arched an eyebrow as he took a few of the bottles from his neighbor’s hands. “Oh?”

The man walked back toward the front door and turned the corner, heading to his flat. Over his shoulder he chuckled. “Yeah. Hope you’re ok with strip poker.” Harry faltered, stumbling over his own two mismatched socked feet. The man gave him another one of those bright enigmatic grins.

 

 

Harry gulped and closed his door behind him, making sure it was unlocked. His evening had just taken a _very_ unexpected turn.

***

“So then this one says…oh god! This one says…” Zayn doubled over in laughter, gesturing to Liam’s bright red face. “He says, ‘don’t mind if I do.’” He practically rolled over on to the floor as he finished his story aimed at embarrassing his flat mate. Liam, to his credit, said nothing in response, just stood up, shook his head, and gathered empty bottles and glasses on his way to the kitchen.

“Now look what you’ve done Zaynie. You’ve gone and upset him. You should go comfort him.” The man sitting across Harry practically cooed, and Zayn obeyed. Harry had found out his handsome neighbor’s name was Louis. He had made this discovery when they ambled into the larger flat at the end of the hall and Zayn cheered his name in glee when he discovered that Louis had secured Harry as their fourth player.

“Louis! Louis! You’re my hero! You got him to come.” Zayn had thrown his arms around Louis’ neck and crashed his slim frame into Louis’ no sooner than they had entered the cool dimly lit apartment.

Harry sat back in his chair and sipped from the Stella that had gone slightly warm in his hand. After Zayn’s affectionate display, he’d found himself warmly greeted and ushered into a very posh lounge area. Lavish supple leather sofas lined the walls and there was a large glass coffee table with assorted square pillows around it, all strewn about the floor in what was meant to look haphazard but actually looked very artistic. Liam had been reclining on a navy and gray striped pillow and was dressed smartly in a black button up shirt that looked expensive and soft. Harry sort of wanted to pet him, but he restrained himself. Harry had noticed that both Liam and Zayn sipped from similar tumblers filled with a deep claret drink, probably red wine, he thought to himself.

Louis had waved his hand around the room in a manner of introductions and had flicked his wrist artfully toward the kitchen, indicating Harry should follow him. Harry stowed his drinks alongside Louis’ pilfered stash from his flat. There was a large crystal pitcher of the red wine-drink on the counter but Louis simply opened a Stella for Harry and helped himself to a glass of the other concoction.

They had joined the other two boys on the floor and had commenced in playing a rather dirty round of strip poker, landing everyone pretty much in just their knickers except Louis. Louis was still fully clothed and on his third drink, a playful smirk dancing across his face as he looked around the table at his nearly nude friends and neighbor.

Harry was glad he’d thought to slip on underwear today. Or else he’d have given his new friends quite a show.

New friends. That was such a strange concept rolling around in Harry’s mind. He sipped his beer, wincing at the sour taste of the now definitely warm liquid. He’d been wondering about the men at the end of the hall for months now; they were quite the mystery among Harry and his flatmates. And here he was, on a Saturday night, playing poker in his underwear. With his new friends.

“Looks like Harry needs a new drink, Lou,” Liam said softly, his voice gentle like a summer breeze. It made Harry smile.

Louis looked over at Harry and, Harry was sure he wasn’t imagining it, his eyes dragged down Harry’s naked chest. “Yeah?”

Harry almost dropped his near empty bottle as he fumbled with it under Louis’ scrutiny. Harry had noticed over the course of the evening, that Louis’ eyes could go from electric blue to a stormy gray-green within seconds, they seemed to change with his emotions. When he was holding a particularly good hand, they lit alive with a teasing cobalt blue. But once, when Zayn beat his hand, they had turned this violent shade of sea green that was alarming, but beautiful nonetheless. It was disconcerting. And really very intriguing. At least to Harry.

“Um. Yeah. But…I’ve had enough I think.” Harry picked at the label on his bottle, ignoring the way Zayn snickered at his left. Liam uncurled a hand and wrapped it around Zayn’s wrist. Zayn went still and quiet.

“Nonsense,” Louis said, rising to his feet in one smooth movement. It almost looked like his legs were spring loaded, he shot up so fast. Harry scrambled after him, realizing Louis meant to go to the kitchen. He carried his empty bottle and placed it next to the sink, feeling a bit flushed and wobbly from the three beers and three ciders he’d already consumed. In fact, he had to admit he was maybe a bit past tipsy and bordering on full out drunk. He gripped the counter and giggled, suddenly really amused at being in his underwear in a practical stranger’s kitchen.

“Something funny Harold?” Louis said, suddenly beside him, pressing his body into his. Harry felt hot, with alcohol and embarrassment, but was instantly cooled and calmed by Louis’ presence. Louis felt solid. Solid and reassuring, pressed to his side. He smelled so good, too. The same as Harry had noticed before when they had passed in the hall, but something more tonight, better almost. _Familiar_. Harry closed his eyes and stooped down a fraction so he could inhale Louis’ hair.

Louis gripped Harry’s bicep and stilled him, making Harry open his eyes quickly and startle at what a weirdo he was just being. “S-sorry. Just. You smell. I mean. You smell really good.” He couldn’t help the dopey smile that stole across his face.

Louis stared at Harry and Harry could swear his eyes went from gray-green to bright vibrant blue as his own vision swam in front of him as he tried to focus on the pretty boy in front of him. “Thank you. I showered today,” Louis finally answered.

It wasn’t that funny. It really wasn’t. But Harry was a little drunk and embarrassed and maybe just a wee bit flustered, so he laughed. He laughed harder than necessary but he couldn’t help it. Louis released his grip on Harry’s arm and Harry felt the cool imprint of his fingertips linger on his hot skin. Louis turned and poured himself a refill of the still full pitcher How could that be? All three boys had been drinking steadily all night. Where was the endless supply of claret liquid coming from? He poured another crystal tumbler and handed it to Harry.

Harry stared down at Louis’ hand and then looked back up into Louis’ eyes. He saw the blue swirling and coalescing into a beautiful shade of turquoise. He blinked and saw bright blue again. “No…Um. I don’t really fancy red wine.”

Louis smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. “’S not wine, Harry. Drink up.”

Harry reached out and felt his fingertips brush up against Louis’, the icy feeling of his skin a welcome relief to Harry’s burning hot touch. He took the glass and swirled the liquid, noticing how it clung to the sides and coated the sharply etched crystal. He could smell something bitter but laced with a fruitier scent, almost like freesia. It smelled sweet, but not overly, just a touch bitter—spicy.

Louis looked up at Harry, stepping closer so that their chests touched. Louis’ t-shirt was soft and well-worn and it felt comforting against Harry’s bare skin. “Go on, love. Drink up like a good boy.”

Harry giggled and lifted the glass, watching Louis the whole time. He liked the way the words “good” and “boy” sounded coming out of Louis’ mouth. He tilted the glass and felt the room temperature liquid tease his lips and slowly slip between them, entering his mouth in a slow cascade of sweetness; aromatic, thick and viscous, like a sensory vortex.

The drink was delicious.

Beyond delicious. Like nothing he’d ever tasted before. Immediately he could feel his entire body crave the liquid. Need more and more of it. He greedily tipped the glass back, draining it, gulping down the addictive libation as it exploded with complex flavors all over his tongue. He barely stopped himself from licking the inside of the glass as he toppled the glass to the counter.

“More,” Harry demanded. He surprised himself with the need to have more; he felt _compelled_ to have more.

"I think you've had enough, darling." Louis laid his own untouched glass next to Harry's empty one on the counter. "Just enough." His voice was cajoling chimes echoing off the pristine grey walls of the cool, dry flat.

Harry whined in the back of his throat, and chased the last few drops in his mouth with his tongue. “Please?”

Louis chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around Harry’s back, leading him to the living room where the other two boys had cleaned up the remnants of the card game and were fully clothed, standing and looking like they meant business. Harry’s head swam with thoughts of how they did that so fast and why did he feel like he was the only one who was still drunk? Louis eased him toward one of the couches where a probably very high numbered thread count sheet had been tucked around it.

“Come on, love, let’s get you into bed,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, sending a trickle of desire through his body. He pushed him down to the cushions.

“But, ’m not tired,” Harry said sleepily, his voice husky already with the need to sleep. That drink was a magic potion, settling drowsiness right into his very bones. Must have been the final straw, he thought, that drink on top of the six others. He wasn’t a lightweight when it came to alcohol consumption, but apparently whatever was in that drink was his limit.

Zayn casually pulled a large grey sweatshirt over Harry’s neck. He vaguely recognized as his own. “Hey—how did you get…?” He felt Liam place a fluffy pillow under his head. “K. Maybe I can just take a little nap. It is a long way down the hall…” He felt his eyes drifting closed as Louis pulled a cream-colored cashmere knit blanket over his bare legs.

“Just sleep now, love. Sleep. You’ll feel so much better in the morning.” Louis’ voice was like a lullaby, soothing in the best possible way.

As Harry felt his body finally surrender to sleep, the taste of the spicy-sweet liquid all but gone from his mouth, he heard Louis say in a hushed tone, “At least we know he’ll be safe here.”

***

“Did you give him too much?”

“I don’t know! I just did what Louis told me.”

“Well. I don’t think he should be sleeping this long.” The voice sounded impatient, angry almost.

Harry stirred and groaned, his mouth feeling like it was coated in cotton. “Nnngh…”

“Shit.”

Harry opened his eyes and moved to sit up but flopped back down when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his head. It felt like his skull was being pried open. “Wha—where am I?” He could manage to open one eye. Right. One eye. That’s it. Harry could see Liam and Zayn looming over him, concern written all over Liam’s face and something like raging annoyance on Zayn’s.

“You’re in our lounge fuckhead,” Zayn mumbled.

Liam hissed at Zayn, “Shut up.” He looked down kindly at Harry. “Can I help you up?”

Harry shuffled a little, holding his head with one hand and accepting Liam’s arm with his other. Once he was sat upright, feet on the floor, both hands cradling his head, he threw Zayn’s words back at him, “Why exactly am I here in your lounge?”

Liam sat gingerly to Harry’s left while Zayn started pacing on the other side of the coffee table. “You had a bit much to drink last night. Are you—are you feeling ok this morning?” Liam touched Harry’s arm gingerly. Harry could feel how cold his hand was through the thick material of his sweatshirt.

“Um. ’V got a headache and it feels like something died in my mouth but…yeah. ’M alright.” Harry smiled weakly at Liam, ignoring Zayn’s frustrated huff.

“I’ve brought you some pain relievers and water.” Liam gestured to the table. Harry gratefully reached for the glass and drank most of it in one go, stopping to take the pills with the last swallow.

“Hm.” Harry wiped his mouth and felt relief course through his body as the cool water slid down his throat. He laid his head back on the edge of the couch cushion, his hair trickling down the back, the curls nearly the same color as the rich brown leather. “Thank you.”

Liam smiled and folded his hands on his lap. Harry noticed both men were fully dressed in black again. Liam was wearing a suit jacket with a black t-shirt and jeans along with black brogues. Zayn wore black jeggings, a black button up and a worn leather jacket. They both looked stunning. Which was—totally unfair. They’d matched him drink for drink last night, hadn’t they?

“Um…where’s Louis?” Harry asked, trying to mask the interest in his voice. He didn’t do a very good job. It was odd, the need to see Louis, be _close_ to him was invading his brain, despite how fuzzy he felt.

Zayn stopped pacing and stared at Harry, narrowing his eyes. It was Liam who spoke, though. “He’s out.”

“Oh,” Harry said simply, suddenly feeling very awkward in the flat alone with just Liam and Zayn. Clearly Zayn was miffed about something and Liam, while he was being very kind, appeared to be being polite just because it was in his nature to do so. He felt like a guest who had outworn his welcome.

“Well, I should be leaving, then.” He awkwardly started to stand, realizing he didn’t have trousers on, just his pants

Liam averted his eyes, but Zayn stared blatantly. Harry grabbed the blanket to cover himself. “Anyone know where my pants went?” he squeaked, already feeling dreadfully out of place, the details of the evening evading his foggy brain.

Liam shot Zayn a look, who just sighed heavily and left the room. Liam looked at Harry searchingly. “You sure you’re alright?”

Harry scratched his head, feeling his hair tangle in his fingers. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be fine. Just had a bit too much last night, yeah?” He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with how intensely Liam was looking at him.

“What—?” Liam paused, smoothing a slender pale hand over his thigh. “What do you remember from last night?”

Harry looked up sharply, his head spinning, as he caught the worried tone in Liam’s voice. “Um…not much? Just playing poker, drinking…um…losing all my clothes?” They both laughed. “It was fun. A good time. Just…it’s all a little murky?” He wondered why Liam looked at him like that, like he was searching for a clue that was just out of reach.

Liam nodded, seeming to be pleased by the response, the wrinkles across his forehead smoothing out. “Right. Well. I’d make you some breakfast but we need a trip to the shops, so…”

Harry remembered seeing how empty and pristine their refrigerator was last night. Harry’s beer and cider the only things in it, not even a lone bottle of mustard or gallon of milk. “I remember.”

“Huh?” Liam looked concerned again.

“Just. I remember your refrigerator being empty. You…did you just get a new one or something?”

Liam paused, his amber eyes flashing golden for a millisecond. “Yes. Yeah. New one. The…the super replaced it last week. The old one was—bad.”

Harry nodded slowly. Of course. Why would three guys in their twenties have a sparkling white refrigerator with no leftover pizza, beer or condiments in it otherwise?

Zayn entered the room then, a swirling masculine scent of spice and leather accompanying him. “Here.” He thrust Harry’s jeans, still warm from the dryer, at him along with his t-shirt and socks from last night. “Lou made me wash them,” he added begrudgingly.

Harry blinked a few times and accepted the clothing. “Thanks. I mean. Yeah. Thanks.” He shifted his hips up and slid his jeans over his legs, cheeks flushing in embarrassment again at being half naked in his neighbor’s flat. He stumbled upright, gripping the rest of his belongings as he attempted to walk out of the flat. He noticed Liam look at him with some degree of sympathy as he passed by him while Zayn continued to stare at him flatly.

“So. Yeah. Thanks. I guess,” Harry mumbled, taking one last look at the posh apartment behind him. Liam nodded and Zayn turned on his heel heading down the hall toward the bedrooms. When the door snicked closed, Harry exhaled sharply, slumping against the wall.

Harry struggled to piece together what just happened. Why was today so awkward? And why did he feel like this hangover was like swimming underwater with a thousand pounds strapped to his back? So much more debilitating than a regular hangover. Something was off, but Harry couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was. He decided to go back to his place and sleep it off. He was sure that it would all be clearer with the effects of the alcohol gone.

He pulled the spare key out from under the mat and stumbled into his apartment, relieved when it appeared as if his flatmates were out. He just wanted quiet to sleep and figure out what happened last night later. He dropped the key on the table and glanced down at the newspaper spread out next to Niall’s coffee cup. He could spot toast crumbs littering the surface and thought he could smell the lingering scent of bacon. His stomach roiled and he wretched, barely making it to the sink to empty the contents of his stomach.

He rinsed his mouth and face after vomiting and winced at the rawness in his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thrown up from alcohol. He was thinking about how it must have been the mixture of drinks he had last night when he dropped into the dining room chair closest to the kitchen. He wiped his mouth and tried to calm his trembling hands by taking a few deep breaths and focusing on the newsprint below him. The headline on the front page made his heart stutter.

“Serial Killer Preys on Victims in the Dead of Night: Vampire Killer Strikes Again. ”    


	4. Chapter 4

“So the thing is, Ni, I don’t think it’s a serial killer. I mean. _One_ killer.” Harry jiggled his leg nervously under the table. It was a few weeks after the peculiar night spent with his neighbors and Harry was trying to convince Niall about his latest theory. The papers were full of stories and conjecture every day about the rash of killings in the neighborhood.

“Hm?” Niall looked up from his takeout cheeseburger and stared his friend down from across the table.

“I mean. I think that it’s…it’s not a serial killer.” Harry paused and took a deep breath. He knew that what he was about to tell his friend was nearly unbelievable, sensational even. “I think it’s a vampire. Specifically, _vampires_. Like. A coven.”

Niall stared at Harry for a beat more. Then he burst into laughter. Loud, raucous laughter that sent crumbs flying and nearly upended his open beer. “What? Mate. You’ve completely gone mental!”

“No, no. Hear me out.” Harry knew this is what was going to happen. He was prepared. He leaned forward and willed his friend to look at him. Niall put his burger down and sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “See. I think that they, the vampires, are trying to make it look like a vampire is killing these people, right? Like, they can hide in plain sight, right? So then…people sort of make a joke about it, yeah? It’s actually kind of brilliant.”

Niall’s smile faded just a bit before he replied, “Right. So, basically what you are saying is that there is a vampire, no, no… _vampires_ . What was it you called it? A _coven_? Vampires walking around London just killing people without hiding the fact that vampires are doing it so they can, what? Get away with it?”

“Exactly!” Harry shouted excitedly.

“Mental.” Niall pushed away from the table and went to the sink to deposit his plate.

“But ’m not!” Harry protested, following Niall to the kitchen, whining just a little. Ok, a lot.

Niall turned and leaned on the sink and spoke firmly, “Haz. We’ve always, you know…put up with your little fascination, hobby, whatever it is.” He waved his hand around in the air between them. “But, mate, seriously. Even you know that they’re not real, right? I mean…”

Harry’s heart sunk into his stomach. He had been foolish to think Niall would understand. No one understood. “Yeah…you’re right,” he said slowly, forcing a laugh, “probably shouldn’t have binge watched season two of Buffy last night.”

Niall crossed the kitchen and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Right. Haz. ’M worried about you. You sure you’re ok? You taking those iron pills the doc gave ya?”

Harry nodded his head, eyeing the pill bottle on the counter behind Niall. He _had_ been taking them and he did think they were making him feel better, although, if he were to be completely honest he would have to say that after he napped that Sunday after the “lost night” as he’d come to term his poker game with the boys down the hall, he’d actually felt better than he had in a long time. He thought maybe the doctor was right. Maybe it had just been stress after all. Just needed a night out. Some time to unwind. Even though the next day had been awkward and strange, waking up with practical strangers, he still felt it must have done him some good.

And that _drink_ that he’d had. He kept wondering if it had some heavy dose of vitamin C in it. Because he felt so much better after the night out and he kept thinking about how good it tasted, how warm it made him feel, how _healthy_. He remembered reading somewhere once that your body craves what it needs when you are sick. Which is why he concluded that the drink must have had something in it he needed.

“Yeah. I am. Sure. I’m just…yeah. Probably just need to lay off the vamp stuff for a while.”

Niall looked at Harry for a moment more. “Ok. Ok.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder again and brushed past him. “Ed n’ I are going out tomorrow night. Half priced drinks at Sully’s ’til ten. Wanna come?”

“Nah. I think I’ll just stay in. Get a little rest.” Harry hoped he was convincing.

“Yeah? Well if you change your mind…”

Harry gave Niall another forced smile. “Ok.”

Niall was halfway down the hall before Harry heard him yell out as an afterthought, “And no more vampire shit!”

***

The next night, after a quick dinner of canned soup and bidding his friends good bye, Harry found himself on the sofa pouring over his laptop. He’d drawn a map detailing the location of each of the murders and had made a chart with some of the facts he’d found through the press articles and TV news clips. He was trying to see if he could find any pattern. Frustrated, he huffed out a breath and put his computer down on the table.

He couldn’t find any discernable patterns. Other than all of the victims had been found in the late hours of the night (or early hours of the morning, depending upon how you looked at it) and that they all seemed to be found in Harry’s neighborhood, at least within an eight block radius of each other. Actually…

Harry picked up the map and looked at it closer, noting where he’d drawn each of the red dots. He held it away from his face and squinted, feeling like something was there if he could just…

“Aha!” he shouted, grabbing the red pen.

He drew a line from where the first victim was found diagonally to where the second was found. Then he eyed where the third was found. He drew a diagonal line to that dot. He hummed and stared at the paper some more. There were three more victims. Quickly he drew a line from the third to the fourth and then to the fifth. There was one more victim that seemed to be out of order from the others. If he looked at the lines they each seemed to span an equidistant area between one another. Each victim was found at precisely the same distance from the others, he just hadn’t noticed it at first since they weren’t linear—that is, they didn’t go from block to block, they went across blocks, on angles or side to side. They weren’t in any obvious pattern, really.

He flopped back on the couch and held the paper above his eyes, staring at the dots and the shape that was forming. It wasn’t completely clear, but it looked like a letter. He closed one eye and looked at the lines. It almost looked like an H.

“Huh.” Harry wondered out loud. A letter would be an odd clue. But still…if that one spot were marked it would make an H for sure. One spot. A spot that would indicate another murder.

God. What if he was right? What if he’d pinpointed the exact location of the next murder?

It was…crazy.

He looked at the chart with the details from each murder. Something in the back of his mind told him to zero in on the dates. Perplexed, he couldn’t see any connection. He stood up, dropping the papers on the table and went to the kitchen. He hadn’t been able to eat much his soup; his appetite had been low the past few weeks. He’d been busy thinking about the murders and had barely been able to keep his head up at work, just getting by each day with the bare minimum. He’d not been sleeping well either, small details floating to his subconscious that made him wake up and puzzle over the murders, their connections, the possibility of a group of vampires (coven, his brain supplied) behind the murders.

Harry knew enough about vampires to know that they were typically very cunning, intelligent to a fault. They also grew bored easily, living a hundred lifetimes or more will do that to a person (creature, that is). They could also be spiteful, venomous and ugly with bitter hatred that could become all-consuming. This is what Harry was operating on; these fundamental truths that he just knew, in his bones, about vampires through years and years of research. All of the countless hours spent reading vampire books and watching television shows and movies…all had been leading up to _this_ moment where he could finally use what he knew and put it to good use.

He was practically a vampire hunter.

Practically.

Looking in the fridge, his stomach turned. Nothing looked good. What he really wanted, craved, was some of that spicy, fruity, deep red liquor that he’d had at the apartment down the hall a few weeks ago. He’d been thinking about it nearly non-stop. In the back of his mind, always present. With a start, he backed out of the refrigerator. He hadn’t realized that he’d been craving it all along at all. Not until just now.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

Harry walked slowly to the door, an eerie sense of déjà vu rolling over him. “Who is it?” he called out through the varnished maple.

“Can Harry come out to play?” The voice on the other side of the door was light and airy, musical, with a raspy edge.

 _Louis_.

Harry felt his pulse race a little before he found words. “Harry’s not home right now.” He smirked.

There was a pause and then a light tap-tap-tap on the door, right at Harry’s ear. “Bullshit.”

Harry laughed out loud and opened the door. His breath caught in his throat. Because Louis…Louis was breathtakingly gorgeous, just standing there in the bright light of the hallway, his hair styled up in a high quiff, cheekbones prominent on his angular face, lips wet and pink and turned up in mischievous grin. He looked better than Harry remembered. And, oh god, he smelled _so good_. Harry could smell him from the inside of his flat, standing two feet away.

“Come on Harold. We’ve got plans.” Louis beckoned Harry with two curled fingers. Harry tracked the movement and willed himself to breathe. Louis had really nice fingers. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Or maybe he had. He couldn’t be sure now.

“We do?” He searched his brain and came up empty. “I don’t…I haven’t seen you since…” He felt like his tongue was in the way, he couldn’t seem to speak properly. Louis was just stunning. He was wearing a fitted black vest and black running shorts, his legs bare and feet without socks and shoes. The shorts were small, showing off the top of strong, toned thighs. But still. He was absolutely stunning, his icy blue eyes glittering in the space between them.

“We do. Now come along.” Louis’ voice was high and bright as he turned and went down the hall, assuming Harry would follow.

He did.

Zayn and Liam were lounging like supermodels on the leather sofas when he and Louis entered the cool apartment. The air smelled like melted cheese and tomatoes, an awful lot like pizza. “Smells good in here,” Harry commented as he slipped his shoes off at the door.

“Hm. Liam’s idea.” Louis hummed, leading Harry to the kitchen. There was a small pizza on the stove, takeout, and a pitcher of the mystery cocktail on the counter. Louis reached up into a cabinet and pulled out a white dinner plate and handed it to Harry.

“Aren’t you guys eating?”

“Eh, we ate already. Got this for you,” Louis said nonchalantly, quirking his head toward the food so Harry could serve himself.

“Thanks. I um…I feel sorta funny eating without you guys, though.”

“Don’t. _Really_. Hurry up now. We’ve got a film ready.” Louis reached up into another cabinet and Harry watched his shirt ride up his back, exposing pale smooth skin and two dimples above his low waistband. He attempted to turn away, trying not to stare. Only—there was something so magnetic about Louis. Harry hard a hard time not looking at him. His skin was so soft and smooth looking. Pale. Creamy. Satiny. Harry wanted to touch it.

Harry didn’t realize it but he was, in fact, staring. He looked up and met Louis’ eyes, the blue a clear shade of turquoise under the fluorescent light of the kitchen, a smile hidden in the depths of turbulent sea there. “Chop chop. Don’t dawdle. No time for any of that now.”

Harry flushed and looked away, turning toward the pizza. He served himself two slices and went to leave the kitchen. Louis stopped him with light fingers on his arm. His touch was dry, icy cool and felt like relief on Harry’s hot flushed skin. “Want something to drink?” Louis arched an eyebrow and watched Harry’s tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he stared at his throat. Harry felt like he was under a microscope.

It made his skin hot and tingly. The penetrative stare from the handsome man in front of him was… _intense_.

“Um…” His eyes darted to the pitcher of ruby-red liquid on the counter. “Can I?” He gestured toward the yummy concoction.

Louis exhaled and smiled warmly. “That’s my boy.”

Harry couldn’t help the pride that blossomed in his chest. He really liked Louis calling him _his_ boy.

Louis handed Harry a crystal glass filled halfway with the drink and nudged him toward the lounge. Liam smiled softly and Zayn picked up the remote. “Thank Christ. Can we finally watch now?” he said in that surly tone of his, making Harry wince.

Louis kicked Zayn’s shin sharply making the boy cry out in pain. “What the hell Lewis?”

Louis kicked him again, smiling altogether menacingly, making Zayn move to the other sofa with a grumbled curse under his breath. “There. Sit by me Harold,” he said, patting the sofa next to him.

Harry smirked, enjoying having Louis stick up for him. What did he ever do to Zayn anyway?

Louis sat in the corner of the sofa and propped his bare legs up on the coffee table, putting his arm along the back of the couch. Harry settled in next to him and placed his glass on a coaster. He took a bite of pizza and hummed. “’S good. Thanks,” he mumbled, not really tasting it.

Louis curled his arm around the back of Harry’s shoulders and pulled him in closer. Harry could smell something light and floral, but masculine at the same time. Something he was coming to recognize as _Louis_. It was slowly driving him insane. He relaxed against Louis and put his plate down next to him on the couch, not really hungry anymore. He glanced over at Liam and saw him watching them. His eyes flickered back to the television, but not before Harry caught him.

“Do you like Cat Stevens?” Louis said, low, practically right in Harry’s ear.

Harry felt a shiver crawl down his spine and he jerked away. Louis being so close to him felt intimate, in a way that _should_ have felt strange. But it didn’t. It felt good to have Louis next to him on the couch, whispering in his ear, _too_ good.

And yet…something told him he was missing something—something that was not quite right. He felt jittery, as if something was going to happen, gathering in the air around them. As if Louis noticed it, he trailed soothing fingers over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry leaned forward to place his plate on the table and pick up his drink. He noticed the other three boys had glasses with the same drink in them, all in various states of being drunk.

“Hm? Cat Stevens?” he said, using the excuse of taking a drink to put a little distance between him and Louis. His brain felt cloudy with Louis all around him, so close and firm, smelling the way he did and looking like some kind of marble god.

“Cat Stevens. Or Yusuf something or other. Changed his name in the nineties but changed it back again. Probably to make more money, the tosser.” Louis ran his fingers through his quiff, sitting very still as he watched Harry sip from his drink, his eyes tracing Harry’s mouth around the crystal, a bit like a predator waiting to strike.

The first drink was as good as Harry remembered, only better. Sweet with a bitter edge, floral and fruity, yet rich and dark. It truly was like nothing he’d ever had. He should get the recipe. He was just sure Niall and Ed would love it.

“Um…I was born in ninety-one so…”

Zayn snorted.

Louis shot him a dangerous look. “I know, smart ass. I was born in eighty-eight. Cat Stevens?”

“No. Sorry, don’t know who that is.” Harry took another long drink. Shit, that stuff was good.

“‘Peace Train?’ ‘Morning has Broken?’ ‘First Cut is the Deepest?’” Louis’ voice was passionate, his hands gesturing along with each title.

Harry giggled into his glass, taking another sip. “Nope, sorry.”

Liam cleared his throat. “Not everyone has the music tastes of an eighty-year-old man, Louis.”

“I’ll have you know, _Liam_ , that I happen to have very eclectic tastes in music. In fact, just today I was listening to Run—”

Zayn cut him off. “Shut the fuck up. It’s starting.”

Louis glared at Zayn and finished his sentence, “—DMC.”

Harry smiled and drained his glass, reveling in the warmth that was spreading through his body. He vaguely remembered Ed talking about some vintage hip-hop group from back in the day called Run-D.M.C. He giggled a little at how eccentric Louis seemed. He snuggled in closer to the boy next to him, feeling the effects of the drink begin to wind their way through his body. He threw caution to the metaphorical wind and sighed into Louis’ arms.

He _wanted_ to snuggle with Louis. He hadn’t had a date in longer than he could remember and well…Louis was good-looking, funny and he seemed to like Harry, so? Why not?

“What’s in this stuff?” Harry whispered loudly, shaking his glass around in front of Louis’ face, full lips quirking up into a grin.

“Secret recipe. Zayn’s mum’s,” Louis stage whispered back. Then he shushed Harry with a hand winding into his curls, taking his empty glass and putting it on the table next to him. Harry melted further into Louis’ side.

Harry felt relaxed and safe at the slight touch. He made a contented sound and burrowed in deeper, pulling his long legs under him. He wriggled a little closer and rested his head on Louis’ shoulder. He was so solid. He felt much more sturdy than he looked. He was slight, thin but still toned, small. Almost dainty. But when Harry leaned on him like this, like he was doing now, he felt nothing but _hard_. Compact. Solid. Strong.

Something about Louis and this place, the smells, the lingering taste in his mouth, felt familiar. Like he’d been here or experienced this before. He shook his head a little and blinked. Probably the drink. That shit was strong. He’d have to pace himself.

“So, what are we watching?” he asked quietly, tilting his head a little so Louis could tangle his fingers in deeper.

Louis complied, tugging slightly on Harry’s long hair so that Harry felt a moan catch in the back of his throat. He stopped it, though, didn’t want to add that to his long list of embarrassments with his neighbors.

“Harold and Maude,” Louis said simply, his lips ghosting over Harry’s ear, making him shiver yet again.

“Harold and who?” Harry asked dreamily. Between Louis’ solid presence, the drink and the strong but gentle hands in his hair, he felt himself slipping into this floaty kind of subspace. He just wanted Louis to keep doing what he was doing and he wanted to keep resting on his small strong body, drinking whatever the hell that red shit was.

“Maude, love. Now shush.” Louis chuckled and wrapped chilly fingers around Harry’s neck. Harry sighed and dropped his head back to Louis’ shoulder. Louis started kneading Harry’s tense neck and shoulder muscles. Louis’ hands were so cold. It felt amazing on his fevered skin.

They watched the movie. About halfway through Liam brought the pitcher out and refilled their glasses. Then about three-quarters of the way through Zayn refilled them. At nearly the end—and Harry couldn’t tell what the hell was going on with that old lady and the kid driving around in that creepy car—he was fighting with himself to stay awake.

Liam brought the pitcher out again and Louis covered Harry’s glass with his hand. “Enough,” he commanded, voice smooth and controlled.

Harry rolled his neck so that he could see Louis’ face. Louis looked down on him with hooded eyes. Through a thick curtain of dark lashes, Harry could see his eyes, a deep navy now, sparkling with a mixture of kindness and mischief. “You’ve had enough, haven’t you darling?”

Harry hummed and tilted his head up further. He wanted Louis to kiss him. He wanted Louis to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted anyone to kiss him before. Maybe it was the drink swimming in his veins, maybe it was the exhaustion or the lack of food in his system or maybe it was just being so close to this mysterious handsome man with the eyes and the smell and the body… it was all so overwhelming. The only thing Harry thought could ground him, the only thing that could possibly tether him to the earth, was kissing Louis.

Louis’ eyes shifted from navy to cerulean and back to navy. Harry felt his body inching closer, his own gaze lost in Louis’ mystic stare. He could feel Louis’ breath on his face, the red drink clinging to the edges like perfume and sweet fragrant mist, mingling into something that dared to be drank deeply.

Harry felt his eyes slipping closed, Louis’ nose bumping into his. Even his face was cold. Harry wanted to cuddle him and warm him up.

“Fuck!”

Harry jolted up and pushed away from Louis, startled by the sound from across the room. Zayn stared at them, sparks shooting from his amber eyes. Harry could swear his eyes flashed red in that instant, but then they were golden brown again before he could really be sure. Louis stood up, his body in a reflexive pose, looking like he wanted to pounce on Zayn, pounce on him for interrupting them.

“I spilled my drink,” Zayn said impassively, his face completely blank.

Louis emitted a low growl from the back of his throat. Harry felt fear curl around his neck. “Louis?”

Louis turned and looked positively ferocious, making Harry slam backward on to the couch. His face was contorted into something monstrous and evil, rage seeming to drip from his skin and ooze from his dark, black eyes. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and Harry could feel his entire body freeze at the sight of him.

Within seconds Louis schooled his features, a mask of calm sliding into place. Harry blinked and saw that his face was handsome and smooth again, perfectly normal, making Harry feel like he had imagined the whole thing. But he hadn’t, had he? Harry’s heart pounded, his fight-or-flight instinct warring inside him. His breathing was labored as he struggled to make sense of what he thought he just saw.

Louis’ approached him slowly, hands out in passive gesture. “Harry?” he said softly, “I’m sorry, love. Zayn just alarmed me, that’s all. It’s ok. It’s ok.” He walked forward slowly, hands dropping to his sides, palms open.

Harry’s pulse slowed, Louis’ voice washing over him like a soothing tide. He could see Louis’ eyes spark indigo and then back to cobalt as he sat back on the couch, keeping an inch or two between them. Harry looked at him, feeling his guard melt away with each slow inhale he took, drinking in Louis’ smell and firm presence.

“Scared me too,” Harry responded, exhaling a slow breath, his heartbeat beginning to resemble something close to normal again.

“Of course, darling, of course.” Louis pulled Harry down to his chest, soothing Harry with firm hands running over his back and gentle noises pressed into his hair. Harry felt like a frightened animal, needing Louis to coax him out of his corner.

Liam coughed and it was then that Harry realized he had moved to the shadows when Zayn had his outburst, stopping Harry and Louis from kissing—a kiss that Harry was certain would have been the best damn kiss of his life. Liam moved like ink through the shadows of the living room, pulling Zayn with him and down the hall. Harry didn’t lift his head off of Louis’ chest, but could see them moving soundlessly out of the room through his peripheral vision. He felt that familiar sense of calm and peace come over him again. Almost as if the other boy’s absence allowed Louis and Harry to recede back into their own bubble again, Harry succumbing easily under Louis’ spell.

Louis tilted Harry’s face up using two strong fingers under his chin. “Love?” he questioned, their faces close together, Harry’s heartbeat finally smooth and strong again in his chest.

“Hm?” Harry looked up at Louis through clouded eyes, the fugue of sleep drifting into his sub- consciousness, coming to claim him.

“Can I kiss you?”

Harry smiled dreamily, nodding and whispering eagerly, “Yes, yes. _Please_.”

Louis gave Harry a small smile and shifted his body so that he could press their lips together. Harry felt the coolness from Louis’ body wrap around him like strong arms, holding him tight and in place, securing him. Louis cradled Harry’s cheeks with careful hands, his thumbs running gently over the hollow of his cheeks. Harry looked up at him, his mouth dropping open in anticipation, his eyes trained on Louis’ lips that were drawing closer.

That first taste, the first feeling of Louis kissing him, had Harry gasping. Louis tasted better than Harry could have even imagined. To Harry, the kiss reminded him of the shortbread cookies his mum used to make when he was little, crisp and sweet, with just an undercurrent of tangy buttermilk. It felt like floating on an impossibly soft cloud in the middle of a pale blue summer sky. It was… _unearthly_.

The thing about kissing Louis was that no matter how good Harry thought it would be, it was a thousand times better. Louis’ tongue was demanding but not pushy. His lips were soft but firm. His sharp teeth were insistent, but not rude, against Harry’s bottom lip.

Harry opened his mouth and let Louis in, let him in to taste, command, _control_. Harry whined and surged up, moving to straddle Louis’ lap. Louis held him firm instead, pushing Harry down flat on the couch so he could lie on top of him. Whatever. This worked just fine for Harry. All he wanted was Louis, anything Louis would give him.

Once Louis had settled his featherlight body on top of Harry’s, Harry felt him slip a leg between his and he couldn’t hide the wide smile that took over his mouth when he felt the way their bodies lined up. Harry sighed into the kiss because he felt suddenly so content and _happy_. Louis murmured into Harry’s mouth, “’S ok, Love. I’ve got you.”

Harry knew Louis would take care of him, _wanted_ him to take care of him.

Harry craned his neck and felt his eyes drop closed, a peaceful bliss settling over him like a drug, as if Louis himself had slipped beneath his skin and swam through his bloodstream. Louis’ lips kissed softly over Harry’s jaw, pulling a pleased hum from the boy underneath him. Harry lay there, limp and pliant, satisfied to let Louis guide wherever this was going. Louis’ lips found Harry’s neck and kissed over the tendons and sensitive skin along the side, under his ear. Harry shivered in delight as he felt Louis’ breath glide over the tender skin there. Harry felt Louis pause over his pulse point, intense anticipation lingering in the air between Louis’ mouth and his own restless skin, making him writhe in want.

“Come on Louis, come _on_ .” Harry heard himself whisper, voice hoarse and rough, much rougher than he expected, his body seemingly detached from the raging desire for something _more_ , more than what he was getting. He felt like he was looking down at the two of them from high above, from a vantage point somewhere in the clouds, but he still felt very much present and in need of something entirely more than a kiss from Louis.

In an instant, Harry felt a piercing pain at his neck where Louis’ mouth had just moments before hovered, his teeth making contact with Harry’s body, the sharp snap of it like a twig breaking in a crisp winter dawn. Harry arched his back and cried out, the sudden pain unexpected but gone just as quickly as it came. Louis’ mouth had covered the wound and was doing something that had Harry’s body coursing with unexpected pleasure. Harry moaned into it and felt Louis’ tongue soothe and lave over his neck while he grew lightheaded and weak, and so, so sated, he nearly passed out from how good it felt.

He could hear small greedy sounds coming from the man on top of him and could feel his body reacting to the sounds, the feeling, and the pressure of it all. Without even realizing it, Harry’s body let go. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep, succumbing to a perfect darkness, was equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

He was fairly certain Louis, the handsome stranger from the end of the hall, was a vampire. And that he was undoubtedly, most certainly, completely gone for him.

***

Again, Harry found himself waking up in an unfamiliar place. This was getting to be a bit of a habit with the boys down the hall. Only this time, instead of on their sofa he was in a large plush bed done up in shades of grey and white bedding, soft and silky smooth against his bare skin.

His _bare_ _skin_.

Sitting upright quickly, groaning at the dizziness in his head, he whipped the sheet up so he could look underneath it and inspect the state of his clothing, or lack of.

“Shit,” he sighed, flopping back on the mattress, happy to see he was wearing underwear, at least. Not his. But underwear, nonetheless.

A cloudy memory surfaced to the front of Harry’s mind like an autumn leaf floating to the ground, carried on summer’s last breath, vibrant but lazy at the same time.

 _Vampire_.

Louis was a vampire.

Sitting back up abruptly, Harry grappled at his neck, running tentative fingers over the skin, searching for puncture wounds or a gaping gash or some tell-tale sign that he’d been drained of blood last night. He came up…empty. Nothing. No sign of invasive blood-sucking at all.

Which was…

Harry was certain he remembered being under some kind of spell and feeling Louis’ teeth tear into his skin. He was certain of it. And he could almost feel the zing of pleasure-pain that had coursed through his veins after… _after_. Right. After.

He’d been glamoured. Or glamourized. Or glammed? Whatever it was called. He was sure of it now that Louis had controlled his mind somehow to make him feel pleasure when he should have been losing his ever-loving mind as he lost every ounce of blood in his…

Wait.

Was he a vampire now?

Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_.

Harry scrambled out of the bed, momentarily surprised when he bumped his shin on the edge of the frame and it hurt. It fucking hurt a whole motherfucking lot. And that was…not exactly vampiric.

Just as he was about to hurtle himself out of the bedroom so he could find a bathroom and a mirror—because of course, conveniently, there wasn’t one in the bedroom (hmmhmm, that’s right—no mirror), the door swung inward and he was faced with Louis. Beautiful, beautiful Louis.

Fucking blood sucker.

“You! You! You stay right there,” Harry screeched, his deep gravelly voice rising higher than he thought possible as he shook a terrified finger at the boy in the doorway. It wasn’t exactly a pretty sound.

“Harry?” Louis sounded surprised, almost shocked, but amused also. Harry scoffed as he backed up against the bed, of course Louis would be a good actor. He’d had years to fool unsuspecting people. Centuries probably.

“I mean it, Louis. You stay there. I…I forbid you from entering!” Harry’s voice was shrill as he yelled out his most menacing warning, pointing at the door again, his pale arm casting shadows against the sun-dappled hardwood floor.

A slow devilish smile spread over Louis’ handsome face as he crossed the threshold of the room, shutting the door behind him. “Darling. That only works in movies.”

Harry felt his heart skitter, a scream clogged in his throat, as he bumped into the bed, falling backward. Louis stalked forward, looking every bit the predator he was.

Harry stammered, “I…I’ll just. I’ll just go home. I promise I won’t bother you. I won’t tell anyone. Just. Please. Don’t.” He begged.

Louis’ face softened immediately, the mint green-blue of his irises flashing concern and kindness, the color swiftly changing to sky blue. “Harry. Harry, love. I’m not going to…God. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He scooped Harry up into his arms. And Harry, despite himself, melted into his embrace immediately, despite his brain screaming futile warnings at him.

Harry trembled but let himself be held. “So…so it’s true then. You’re…you’re a…”

“Say it.”

Harry looked up at Louis and felt pulled in, pulled under by his hypnotic stare and the sweet vanilla, musky leather smell that seemed to emanate from his skin, his breath, his very being. “Are you glamouring me?” he whispered.

Louis laughed, a light sunshiney sound that rang through the quiet room. “No darling. That, too, is not a real thing.”

Harry sat up and pulled his legs up under him so he could face Louis fully, Louis releasing him as he got comfortable. Harry was wary but the need for answers kept him in place. Louis waited, a patient look flitting across his face before he settled in next to Harry.

Harry drew in a deep breath. “So. It’s true, isn’t it? You’re a vampire.”

Louis studied Harry’s face for a moment before answering, “Yes. I am.” His voice was quiet and calm, firm.

Harry gulped, eyes widening, his body fighting with itself to sit still. “You. You are?” he whispered, disbelief crowding the corners of his voice.

Louis leveled Harry with an intense gaze before nodding once. “Yes.”

“But. Did I? Did you…turn me? Last night. Did you turn me?” Harry’s eyes filled with tears as images of his entire life as he knew it flashed before his eyes, the certainty of a macabre life spent underground or roaming cemeteries, destined to live in darkness flooding his senses.

Louis reached out and pulled one of Harry’s shaking hands into his own cool, steady one. “Not completely.”

Harry stared at him and opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t find the words. What did that mean, ‘not completely?’ “Um…”

“Harry. You are going to need to eat something before we have this talk. Trust me. Ok? Do you trust me?” Louis rubbed Harry’s fingers under his thumb, Harry not even realizing how utterly calm and at peace he felt from the small gesture.

Did he trust Louis? He did. Oddly enough, he did. More than anyone. Which was strange, knowing that they’d only spent time together three times now and each time ended with Harry drunk, or drugged, or glamoured…well, not glamoured, but _bewitched_ or something. But he did.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I do.”

Louis gave him a small smile, the look and feel of it warming Harry to his core. Harry watched Louis’ eyes swirl aquamarine and then cerulean. “Ok then. Come on.”

Louis stood and held out his hand. Harry took it.

***

Ten minutes later, Harry was clothed in a loose pair of track pants and a worn grey thermal shirt. He was cold, despite the warm clothing, so Louis offered him a light throw blanket, which he gladly took. He was still shivering, so Louis gave Liam a curt nod, sending Liam to the bedroom they had emerged from, returning with the heavy duvet. The blanket seemed to help, at least Harry’s teeth stopped chattering.

Zayn came from the kitchen with a steaming cup in his hand, which he offered to Harry wordlessly. Harry took it and inhaled, the rich earthy scent warming him up by osmosis. The drink wasn’t coffee or tea, or even cocoa. Harry sniffed and took a small tentative sip, noticing Louis watching him pensively the entire time.

The drink was good. Thick and silky in his throat, a bit like chamomile and chai. But something about it was familiar, floral, fruity…but dark and rich. With a start he realized it was a warmed up version of the claret drink he’d been served multiple times already in this flat. He dropped it on the table as if it burned his hand.

“What the fuck is that?”

Louis stopped pacing, something he’d been doing ever since Harry had accepted the second blanket. He looked nervous. It wasn’t a good look on him.

“I said…What. The. Fuck. Is. That?” Harry glared at Louis, and then looked from Louis to Liam and then to Zayn. Liam stared at his clasped hands on his lap and Zayn just sat on the corner of the couch with a wide grin on his face. He looked crazed.

“ _Louis_.” Harry was angry. He wanted answers.

“Ok. Ok. I’ll just.” Louis walked over to Harry and sat next to him, careful not to touch him.

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees under the blankets, a chill running through him, despite the layers. He watched Louis and waited, as the smaller man collected his thoughts.

“Ok. So, you know that party you and your mates had a few months back?” Louis began.

“Yeah? For Halloween.”

“Right. All Hallow’s Eve.” Louis ran a hand through his hair, perfectly coiffed, yet artfully mussed, as usual. “That night, you…ah…had some guests.”

Harry blinked and shook his head. “Right. We had a shitload of guests. What are you on about?”

“Not just any guests, Harry.” Louis’ voice was exasperated.

“He means vampires dickwad.” Zayn supplied, not moving from his perch.

Harry snapped his head to look at Zayn, who just stared at Harry with a bored look across his face, completely unmoved by Harry’s crisis. “Vampires?” Harry looked back at Louis.

Louis leaned forward. “I swear Harry, I wouldn’t have done any of this, any of it, if I didn’t feel like we had to.”

“What are you talking about Louis? I’m…you’re scaring me.” Harry shivered, although this time not entirely from the chill wracking his body.

“That night, at the party, there was a vampire there. He…he’s part of this other…coven.” Louis’ eyes flashed a sharp color of cobalt before fading back to periwinkle. “And. Shit.” He looked beyond flustered.

Liam sat forward, making eye contact with Louis. Silently, Louis seemed to grant him permission to speak. “Harry, it’s like this. That vampire meant to do you harm. The plan was to kill you that night. Only, for some reason, it didn’t go according to plan, you were…for lack of a better word, drugged.”

“Drugged. Drugged?” Harry rolled the word around in his mouth, the idea ludicrous to him.

“Well, sort of. You were, um…slipped some of the Master’s blood, the leader’s. And not just any Master. He’s sort of the most powerful Master we’ve ever encountered.” Liam’s voice was calm and even, almost hypnotic.

Louis spoke then, “Their goal was, if not to kill you, to control you. Through the blood link.”

Harry’s brain scrambled to keep up. Just yesterday—it was yesterday, wasn’t it?—he was coming up with a map and a hypothesis of a vampire posing as a serial killer, but he didn’t really…it hadn’t really been true, had it? For Harry’s entire life he had believed, entertained the belief, that vampires were real. But in the back of his mind, deep within his consciousness, he never really actually thought that it was all _true_ . Or at least, he had his doubts. And now. Now, he’d not only discovered that they _were_ real, but that he was in the middle of some vampire shit-fest drama.

What the hell was happening?

“Wh—what?” Harry was mildly aware of the hysteria in his voice. But it was kind of too late. He was already careening toward full throttled panic-attack.

“Harry. It’s ok. It’s ok,” Louis murmured, sliding closer to him, the blankets bunching up between them.

Harry flinched and pushed his legs out, keeping Louis on his side of the couch. “Stay right there.” He pinched his bottom lip between his fingers and tried to keep track of his racing mind. He felt queasy and cold and so, so alone. He wanted to go back to his flat, fall asleep, and then wake up tomorrow realizing this was all a bad dream.

But still.

What he had imagined with Louis had been real, hadn’t it?

“What about…what about us?” Harry gestured between the two of them, Louis tracking the movement with violet-blue eyes.

“Completely true,” Louis said earnestly.

The room was quiet for a moment until Zayn abrasively interrupted Harry’s inner thoughts. “Can we get the fuck on with this? We have vampires to hunt. World peace to attain. Yada, yada and all that.”

Harry squinted at Zayn. “What the fuck is your problem? What did I ever do to you?”

Zayn sat up at that, pushing himself up off the sofa, his lithe body looming over Harry’s burrowed form on the opposite couch. “What did you do to me? What did you do to me?”

“Zayn,” Louis warned.

“No. No. He needs to hear this. You—you and your pretty green eyes and your long wavy hair and your fucking legs that go on for days—his words, not mine.” Zayn pointed roughly at Louis. “You just waltzed into our lives and changed everything. We were happy, the three of us. And then. Then. You changed everything.”

As Zayn talked, his voice rose, a gravelly sound pinning it to his chest, making him sound nearly ferocious. In an instant, Liam was at his side, a large palm flattened against his sternum, pushing him back. He positioned his body between Louis’ and Zayn’s, Louis off of the couch stalking forward without Harry even realizing he had moved.

What was Zayn even talking about?

“Come on Z. Let’s get some air,” Liam intoned, calm and steady, always calm and steady.

Liam managed to maneuver Zayn to the door, the smaller boy growling the whole time, looking and sounding more like a feral dog than a vampire. Harry just watched in horror, not sure what was happening or what he’d stepped into, the pieces still scattered like a broken puzzle in his mind.

The air cooled and calmed once the door closed and Louis sat back down, exhaling with a slow, measured force. “I think I need to start at the beginning, yeah?”

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to understand. Needed to fully understand what was happening. “Yeah…I think so.”

Louis nodded and looked at Harry sheepishly, a sly grin turning half of his mouth up. “Ok. Ok.”

Harry settled backward, feeling much more at ease with the other two boys gone for some reason, able to focus on Louis only. He looked at Louis a few feet away from him and was caught again with the heady realization that he was truly beautiful. His pale skin was smooth and unlined, the permanent scruff of auburn whiskers on his chin, cheeks and upper lip giving him a roguish look. His ever-changing eyes were nearly celadon now, the light from outside making them pale and nearly translucent.

“So…where were we? Right. You were drugged at the party. And, well, the other coven, the Master, was trying to use the blood link to place you at the scene of several of their crimes. They’ve been responsible for the murders plaguing the neighborhood lately.”

Harry sat upright. He was right! He’d had a hunch about the serial killer being a vampire. Or a coven. Holy shit, he was _brilliant_. Absolutely brilliant. He had to physically stop himself from pumping his fist high in the air. He was just pretty damn proud of himself. He was beaming from ear to ear when Louis interrupted him with a subtle throat clear.

“Are you done?” Louis smirked. Harry didn’t realize he’d been so boisterous with his internal self-congratulatory monologue.

“Um. Uh…yeah. Done.” Harry felt his cheeks heat up.

“So, anyway…they managed to get you at the scene of the murders three times.”

Harry’s smile quickly vanished. “Three times?” Three times? How…

“You were sleeping Harry, you couldn’t help it. They, _he_ , controlled you with the blood-link.” Louis moved to run a hand over Harry’s arm. Harry tilted toward it, his body unconsciously seeking comfort from Louis even though he didn’t really want it.

“Did I…?” Harry couldn’t even form the words.

“No. No you didn’t. They…I think they were trying to frame you.” Louis spoke quickly, his hand clamping over Harry’s forearm in a show of support.

Harry saw a flash of dark, sticky, blue-black blood coating his hands, a scream lodged in his throat. He remembered waking from a dream, feeling like it was so real, so vivid. Then, he remembered another time when he felt strong cool arms around him, laying him in bed, the scent of butter leather and soft light freesia, sweet like cookies, surrounding him. Had all those times…had they all been real?

“They were all real,” Louis said, reading Harry’s mind.

Harry swallowed thickly. “Are you—can you read my mind?”

“No. But I could see where you were going with this. I know that you would remember each time eventually. I was able to, well, rescue you each time.”

“Rescue me?”

“Um…well, I got you out of there before—before you could get caught,” Louis said softly, his voice almost as soft as his hand, that was now running up and down the length of Harry’s forearm. It was soothing.

“Go on.” Harry met Louis’ eyes, the connection between them evidently still there, still palpable.

Louis smiled, small and secret, before he continued. “I wanted to…protect you. I needed to—“

“That’s why Zayn hates me then? Because you wanted to protect me?” Suddenly things were starting to slot into place.

“Partly. The other coven, they have been at war with my bloodline for centuries. It’s only recently that this faction has found the three of us here in London. They…I think they were trying to get to us through you. That’s the part Zayn is pissed about. He thinks that I played right into their hand.”

“Oh.” Harry scratched his head, something still unclear. “Why did you try to save me? All those times, why would you like…follow me, bring me home…rescue me, whatever?”

Louis paused, eyes searching Harry’s, his tongue tracing his bottom lip. “Something about you Harry. I just…yeah. I think the world is a better place with you in it.”

Harry stammered, “You…you don’t even know me. How…?”

“I do, though. I could tell what kind of a person you were from the first day you moved in.” Louis must have seen the questioning look on Harry’s face so he continued, “You open doors for people. You drop mail off when it gets put in your box on accident. You invite people to your parties…hell, you tell knock knock jokes to that old lady between our flats.”

“Mrs. Harker,” Harry said with a smile. He couldn’t believe that Louis had noticed those things about him.

“When you’ve been alive as long as I have, Harry, you see things. Things other people don’t. And you…you’re worth it. All of it.”

Harry let the gravity of what Louis was saying settle over him. It was…really sweet.

“Right. So. In order to keep you safe I had to get you to drink some of my blood. More than you had ingested of the other Master’s.”

“Other? Other Master’s? That means, you are…” Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted at the thought of ingesting blood. Vampire blood. The blood of two vampires.

“A Master. Guilty.” Louis held his hands up in fake surrender, the joke falling flat. “Look, I would have told you if I would have thought you’d not freak out, not run. But, I had to be sure.”

Harry considered it, thinking that Louis was probably right. He needed to be connected to Louis, bound to him in some way, however artificial it was—through his blood-link or through him—in order to be able to really hear what he was saying to him now. In order for him to fully grasp it.

“So…blood?” Harry’s tasted bile at the back of his throat.

“Not completely, totally all blood. Some of mine—it’s really concentrated—mixed with a vegetarian blood that we drink.”

“Vegetarian?” Harry squeaked.

“Um. So…some of us don’t believe in killing humans for survival? Or even drinking human blood from donors or blood banks or whatever. So, we get this synthetic, or vegetarian, blood from like a black market for vampires. That’s what that red drink is that you’ve been served here. With a few drops of my blood mixed in. A little more each time you drank it, to increase your link to me. After last night, um…we are almost completely linked.” Louis looked away quickly, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“What are you not telling me?” Harry was almost afraid to ask.

“Last night. I drank your blood.” Louis voice was quiet, meek, so unlike his usual confident speaking voice.

Harry felt guilty for making Louis feel badly about it. “I know,” he said, hoping to assuage Louis’ worry. “It’s ok. You had to, right?”

“I did if we wanted to blood-link to be even stronger.” Louis picked at a feather that was poking out from the warm duvet. “There’s one more step to make it stronger yet. But…that choice is up to you.”

Harry watched Louis’ fingers work along the seam of the comforter. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“I can turn you.”

Harry’s head swum with the possibility. Turn him. He’d be…like Louis. Like Liam and Zayn. A vampire.

Harry lost his battle with the nausea he’d barely been able to keep at bay all morning. He barely made it to the kitchen sink before he threw up the contents of his stomach.

The liquid sloshing down the drain was stained red.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke up in his own bed. The sun told him he must have slept for several hours. His head pounded and he was so damn thirsty his throat was on fire. He found a glass of water on his end table with a note from Louis that read:

_Harry, come back when you are ready to talk. You need to hear the rest. I’m afraid you are still in danger. Yours always, Louis_

Harry took a long drink of the water, sputtering at the taste of it. It tasted foreign, wrong somehow.

Fucking blood sucker.

He wanted to be angry at Louis but he couldn’t bring himself to be. He mostly felt gratitude toward the good-looking bloke (could vampires even be called blokes?) at the end of the hall. He clearly had put his own life, the lives of his own coven, in danger to save Harry. But still… Harry was reticent to hear the rest of Louis’ story, not sure he wanted to know what his choices were at this point.

For now he wanted to figure out how to get out of bed.

He felt like he had come down with a flu. A really bad one, at that. His body was shaky and he felt chilled. He was thirsty, but the water wasn’t cutting it—and in the back of his mind he knew what would, and he really couldn’t face that—and his joints ached like he had run a marathon. He felt like shit, is what he felt like.

Harry tumbled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. After he had a wee and brushed his teeth he examined his reflection in the mirror. He looked about as good as he felt. He had dark rings under each eye and his skin had a ghostly pallor with a high flush on each cheek. His hair hung limp and dirty around his face and the area around his neck tattoo looked slightly discolored compared to the rest of his skin. A few striated lines of carnation pink spiraled out from the twin marks like a starburst.

Harry groaned and pushed his way toward the kitchen, pulling a few greasy tendrils around his neck to cover the tattoo and suspect markings. He could hear Ed and Niall talking down the hall as he pulled his face into as neutral of a position as possible, considering how his heart was jack-rabbiting in his chest and his mind was a fragmented mess of too many questions and not enough answers.

“Oh-o! There he is!” Niall’s loud booming voice was like a hammer to the side of Harry’s head.

He grumbled a hello and brushed past his flatmates to the kitchen. “You ok there, Haz?” Ed asked, concern coloring his voice.

He poured himself a glass of orange juice, grimacing at the taste of it, but forcing it back. “Yeah, ’m fine…just caught a bug or summat,” Harry rasped, alarmed at how rough his voice sounded.

“I should say so,” Niall remarked, “you’ve been asleep for practically two whole days!”

Harry spun around and stared at his friends, the room spinning around him. “I’ve _what_?”

“Two days,” Niall repeated. “That Louis fellow, nice guy he is, helped bring you home on Sunday morning. Said he thought maybe you’d had too much to drink. But then you didn’t get up by that night so we called you in for work Monday and then again today.”

Harry shook his head, not believing he’d been asleep since _Sunday_. Ed continued, “Louis came to check on you last night, said somethin’ about his flatmate coming down with it too. Said we might want to call you off for the whole week.”

“Did you?” Harry fought with his stomach to keep the orange juice in.

“We did. ’Ve never seen you so sick, Haz.” Niall crossed the kitchen and stood in front of Harry. “Ya look like shite, my friend.”

Harry gave Niall a small smile. “Thanks pal.”

“No offense.”

Harry flipped Niall off. At least he still had some motor control.

“Want me to fix you some toast?” Niall asked, already rummaging for some bread on the counter.

“Nah. That’s ok. I’ll just…have some crackers.” Harry stomach was roiling again. He needed something solid in his stomach, a shower and then the inevitable visit to Louis’ flat.

“K. If you’re sure….”

“Yeah. Yeah, ’M fine, Ni, really.” Harry forced himself to smile, hoping Niall would buy it.

He did. “Ok, then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Ed and I were off to play some golf. You ok by yourself?”

Harry felt a sigh of relief leave his body. He didn’t want to implicate his friends any more than he already had. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Just gonna watch some telly today I think. Sleep it off…”

Niall clapped Harry on the shoulder, bumping shoulders with him under the bright fluorescent light of the kitchen. “Call us if you need anything.”

“I will. Promise.”

Ed blew Harry a kiss and the two men left the apartment in a flurry of curse words and good-natured ribbing about who was going to kick whose arse on the course. Harry found a few stale soda crackers and walked to the couch. He flopped down and stared at the black screen of the TV. Two days. He’d lost two days and still felt like absolute crap. Something was wrong. And he knew who could fix it.

***

“I’m ready for the rest of it.”

Harry pushed past Louis, ignoring his the magnetic pull and the delectable scent that clung to his skin, hair and clothes. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

“Well, hello to you too,” Louis said, his hair and clothing impeccable as always.

Bastard.

“Two days, Louis! I lost two days. I haven’t slept for two days since I had glandular fever in year eight!” Harry shouted, his body still shaking from a combination of anger and uncontrollable chills, that only seemed to have worsened since his shower.

“I know, babe. I know.” Louis sat down on the sofa, waiting for Harry to join him.

Harry did. Only because he could hardly stand. “And I feel like absolute fucking crap, Louis. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Louis pulled Harry in closer and Harry felt instantly warmer. Which was absurd, given how fucking cold Louis was, but he did. “You’re not sick, Harry. Your body is trying to decide if it is in transition or not.”

“Transition?” Harry sat up and waited.

“You’ve had my blood. I’ve drank directly from your veins. The next step would be for you to drink from mine. But once you’ve done that there is no going back. You will turn.” Louis looked at Harry gravely, his eyes stormy and icy grey today. “Or, you wait for my blood to work its way out of your system.”

“How long will that take?” Harry’s voice was flat as he tried to keep all emotion out of his decision making.

“About a week. You have about six days to make your choice.”

The words hung in the air between them, the gauntlet thrown.

Louis cleared his throat, making Harry seek out his eyes. “But I wouldn’t recommend not turning, Harry. You are in grave danger right now. We still haven’t tracked down the other coven and they will take advantage of your weakened state when my blood wears down. They will come for you. This time I’m sure they will kill you.”

Harry gulped, fear skittering over his skin like icy cold spiders. “If I decide to…to become…like you. Wh—what…how does it work?”

Louis sat up straighter and leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Harry felt the air change between them, the thick cloak of desire and magical connectivity spring to life like a coil. Louis wrapped a hand over the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him closer. Harry was completely powerless. Whether it was the blood-link or just the fact that it was Louis, Harry let himself be drawn in.

Louis’ mouth pressed to Harry’s and Harry could almost taste the sugar sweet spice of Louis’ kiss. Louis turned Harry’s head gently so he could whisper against his ear, “I will drink from you again and when you are so deep in my venom, so deep that you can hardly remember your name, let alone your humanity, I’ll slice my wrist and press it to your mouth. You will drink, because you won’t be able to help yourself, and within moments it will be over. But not before we share a blood kiss, the mingling of our blood on each other’s tongue the final step in securing our eternal bond.”

Harry’s pulse had quickened and his mouth had gone slack as Louis’ words poured like syrup from his mouth and into Harry’s ear. He wanted that. He wanted whatever Louis would give him. God, in this moment, he would do anything Louis said. Anything.

Which was.

“Fuck! Are you sure you can’t glamour me?” Harry shoved Louis back and met his eyes, shaking off the lust and desire he felt thrumming through his veins.

Louis leaned back and laughed, a full throaty sound, and replied, “No, but one of the reasons you want it so badly is because you’ve had my blood. It’s almost the way drugs or alcohol, or even sex, is for humans. When vampires share blood it’s part of the…uh…mating ritual.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. Louis smirked, his entire face a flirtation. “It’s actually pretty intense.”

Harry was screwed. Metaphorically anyway.

“I…so what happens if I decide to turn? Can I…” Harry felt the words catch in his throat. He swallowed, blinked a few times and continued, “Can I see my family? My friends? Have a job?”

Louis smiled kindly and patted Harry’s leg. The cold imprint felt like a brand to Harry. “Harry. For Christ sakes, Liam is a banker. Zayn works at an art gallery and I’m a freelance writer. I have Sunday dinner with me great grand-mum every week. We go to pubs. We piss in a toilet. We do everything that humans do. We just need blood to survive.”

Harry considered all of this, questions ready to fall from his tongue as Louis finished, “The only big difference is that we are pretty much indestructible, we can basically live forever, and well, we’re outstanding in bed.” He met Harry’s eyes. “Or out of it. Whatever your preference is, really.”

Harry didn’t need to know that.

“Did your parents know? That you were…um…are a vampire?”

“They did. I was turned when I was in uni. I came home when I graduated and told them. Me dad didn’t believe it at first, but after a while they came around.” Louis kept looking at Harry, an assessing look in his eye. He added, “They’re all gone now.”

Harry thought about it and gave Louis a small sympathetic smile. He knew, from his vampire lore knowledge, that it what difficult to see those you love die over the years.

“But how can you be a Master if you’re so…so…young?” Harry was being challenged by everything he thought he knew about vampires.

“You can become a Master if you have royal blood and if you can lead your own coven. Most would-be Masters fail at that. Vampires are not exactly…how should I put this? Hospitable creatures. They don’t really play well with others. True covens are rare. Which is why Zayn—”

“Thinks I’m ruining everything.” Harry finally understood. Zayn saw Harry as a threat to what they had. He thought Harry would disturb the little unit they’d been able to create, against all odds.

“Right. Which. I told him you wouldn’t. I think he’s just jealous. He’ll come around to it.” Louis pulled Harry’s legs over his lap, running his fingertips over Harry’s calves and knees through his trackies.

Harry leaned back against the pillows, feeling marginally better, almost as if just being in close proximity to Louis was helping with the flu-like symptoms. “Do you and Zayn…are you?”

Louis tilted his head, frowning a little. “Oh god! No! Jesus Christ. Never. Not Zayn and me.” He shuddered, almost as if the thought of it made him feel sick. Serves him right, Harry thought, still feeling pretty crappy. “Zayn is like my brother. Plus—Liam would kick my arse.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Zayn and Liam? Are like…a couple?”

“Yep. Actually, I turned them myself on the same night. During uni. They lived together and the three of us were friends. They made the choice to transition together. If it weren’t so poetic I’d probably make fun of them for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry shivered at the feeling of Louis’ hands on his legs. Louis continued soothing him, soft and sure, patient as he answered Harry’s questions. “I’m single,” he added, quietly.

And that, that was music to Harry’s ears. Harry smiled to himself. There was something very satisfying about hearing Louis was untethered. A free man, er, vampire.

“Have you…have you always been single?” Harry’s voice was uncertain.

“For a long time. Ever since I…ah…turned.” Harry looked at Louis and saw a gleam in his bright blue eyes, the grey swirling away like mist.

“Who turned you?” Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Louis squeezed Harry’s right knee, settling back against the cushions. “One of my professors. At uni.” His gaze became slightly unfocused as he looked past Harry’s shoulder, almost as if he were looking into the past.

Harry dropped one of his hands to cover Louis’. “Was he…were you…?”

“Yeah. He was my boyfriend. My first. I was in madly in love. And he…well, he wasn’t. So…after he turned me he just…left. Disappeared. I guess it was too much for him.”

Harry stared at Louis’ profile, the other man looking down at his hand under Harry’s larger one. Harry could feel the mingling of temperatures as their fingers threaded together and pulled apart, skin sliding against skin; smooth, cool and dry.

“I’ll do it.”

Louis looked up sharply at Harry, shaking off his reverie. “What?”

Harry nodded, to himself and to Louis. “I’ll do it. I want to turn. I want you to turn me.”

Louis stared at Harry, turning their hands so he could clasp Harry’s more firmly. “Yeah?”

Harry nodded again, leaning forward, chasing the intoxicating, addictive taste of Louis’ lips.

“Yes,” he murmured against the vampire’s lips, “yes.”

And to Harry, it felt like stepping into the bright blue light of a thousand winter mornings, icy and cold, but as clear as anything he’d ever seen.

***

“You’re going _where_?”

Harry hurriedly shoved a sweatshirt into his backpack. “I told you, Ed, camping.”

“Camping.” The redhead stood in Harry’s door, shock and something that looked a bit like anger crawling over his face. “In January.”

Harry turned around and ran a hand through his hair, mind racing as he tried to remember everything he needed. “Technically it’s still December,” Harry retorted, the last day of the month, of the year, unfolding around them like a fresh coat of snow. “We’ve been over this. It’s not exactly camping. It’s like a cabin in the woods or summat. Why is it so hard to believe I’d be going camping?”

“Uh. Because it’s the middle of bloody winter and you never go camping?”

“First time for everything,” Harry muttered underneath his breath, the statement more true than Ed realized. He took one last look around his cramped room. He had a few changes of clothes, most of which consisted of woolen socks, heavy jumpers and flannel pants.

Harry turned on his heel and prepared to leave the room. Ed took up the entire space of the doorway, his normally smaller frame imposing in the tiny space. He looked unusually intimidating. Which was…disconcerting. Ed was usually so easygoing and full of joy and mirth. Ed hovering in his doorway practically making accusations was definitely not typical.

“I don’t get it. Why do you care so much?” Harry blurted out.

Ed dropped his hands and moved to the side, seeming to remember himself. “I just…it’s weird that you are all of sudden hanging out with the freaks down the hall.”

Harry stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning on Ed and staring him down. “What did you say?”

Ed took a small step forward, inhaling as he went so that his chest puffed up slightly, has face changing in the shadows of the hallway. “I said…the _freaks_ down the hall.” He enunciated clearly, each word like a sharp dagger slicing through the air. His mouth was pulled back in a grimace and his eyes almost looked…feral.

Harry sucked in air, wondering why Ed was suddenly so acrimonious toward their neighbors, his new friends. He wondered where this version of Ed came from, this angry confrontational version. Shaking his head, Harry tried to sort out the quick change in Ed’s personality while also making sense of the last few days.

Christmas had come and gone, Harry calling his mum and telling her he’d come down with a flu so he could stay in the city, with Louis. And then, he’d spent all of his time down the hall, he and Louis making plans for his turning, and kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. Which was…all kinds of fantastic. Harry felt like he’d been drugged by Louis, the taste of him, the smell of him.

Ed cleared his throat, snapping Harry back to reality. He was just about to reply, choosing his words carefully, when a cloud passed over Ed’s face, smoothing his features into an amiable mask. The usual face Harry associated with Ed. It happened so quickly, Harry blinked as he stared at his friend, unsure of what had just transpired.

“I just mean…we miss you. That’s all.” Ed walked closer, Harry backing down the hall a small step without realizing it. “Ni and I have been worried about you, that’s all, Hazza. You’ve been sick and down and, well…I miss you!” Ed’s voice was heavy, sincere, but also cramped, like he was trying to fit more than words into the statement.

Harry exhaled and stopped moving away from Ed. This was Ed. Ed was his friend. His good friend. Ed had always been there for him. He accepted him right away when he moved in with him and Niall.

He must really be on edge about this whole turning thing, Harry thought, if he freaked out about something like Ed worrying about him. He looked at Ed, who had come to stand directly in front of him, his pale blue eyes kind and soft, so much like usual that Harry thought he must have imagined the tone in Ed’s voice just a moment ago.

“Th—thanks Ed. I appreciate it. Really, I do. I just need to get out of town for a few days, you know?” Harry looked down at Ed, his friend a few inches shorter than him, even with his messy, spiked orange hair.

Ed reached out and pulled Harry into his arms, his bare arms cold against Harry’s neck. “As long as you are being careful, H,” he said, inhaling Harry’s skin and loose curls deeply.

Harry pulled away and kissed the top of Ed’s head, his heart brimming with fondness for his friend. “Of course I am,” he said, puzzling over Ed’s word choice. He’d have to think about it later, though, because just then he heard a knock on the door, Louis’ telltale rap ringing through the small flat. He grinned at Ed apologetically.

Ed grinned back and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Go on then! Don’t die of frostbite.”

“I won’t!” Harry called over his shoulder with a laugh, grabbing his parka from the hall closet before shuffling out the door.

Louis was leaning against the opposite wall, making Harry falter as he rushed out of his flat. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt and black jeggings, tucked into black Doc Martens. His black leather motorcycle jacket fell to his curvy hips, making Harry’s mouth go dry. His piercing blue eyes met Harry’s and Harry felt a hot zing of arousal zip up his spine, his lower belly tightening at the memory of Louis’ kiss, his smooth, perfect tongue and soft, persistent lips.

He forgot everything else, focusing on Louis and Louis only.

“Hi.”

“Hello, pet.”

Harry smiled into his shoulder, locking the door and pocketing his keys. Louis pushed off the wall, his unique scent filling Harry’s nose.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

“No. I mean. Are you _ready_?” Louis’ tone was concerned, full of something that sounded dangerous, foreboding.

Harry nodded his head and searched out Louis’ eyes in the dim light of the hallway. He hefted his bag up on his shoulder more securely. He knew what Louis was asking. He was asking if Harry was ready to follow Louis into the future. A future that left behind everything he knew in exchange for making him supernatural, superhuman: vampire.

He hadn’t made this decision lightly. He had talked it over with Louis for hours, had slept on it and had written several pros and cons lists. Given the precarious state of his…survival, in the end he decided it for the best to be turned. His childhood obsession had done nothing if not prepare him for this. It was as if all of the books, movies,TV shows, comics…it had all been training. Except…he was quickly finding out that a lot of it was myth. But still.

He also felt unbelievably drawn to Louis, and Louis said he felt the same. So. He was ready.

“I’m ready.”

Louis gave Harry a small smile and wrestled his bag from him, hoisting it over his own shoulder instead. “Ok. Then let’s do this.”

Harry felt his stomach flip and his heart beat a little faster. He was doing this. And he couldn’t wait.

***

The mixture of dead leaves and fresh snow crunched underneath their boots as they made their way around to the front of the “cabin.” Harry had laughed when they pulled into the drive that ended at the back of the large stone house hidden deep in the woods. He had imagined a small one-room cabin that his family used to rent when they went fishing in the summer when he was a kid. But this was a house, almost a mansion. Well. Not quite. But it was big. And impressive. And it looked expensive.

The snow clung to pine needles in little patchwork clumps, sparkling like diamonds under the bright midday winter sky. Louis held out his hand and pulled Harry along toward the front of the house, which faced the lake.

“This is how you camp?” Harry grinned at the way Louis’ hand fit so perfectly inside his own.

“Yes,” Louis murmured, “How else would one camp?”

“Oh my god. Is that—is that a hot tub?” Harry pointed at the elevated deck off the far end of the house with an unobstructed view of the picturesque lake and ghostly trees that seemed to stand guard over the pristine shoreline.

Louis unlocked the scarlet red mission style door and glanced toward the deck. “Yep. It’s right outside the master bedroom.”

Harry’s throat constricted. Master bedroom. He hoped that would translate to “Louis and Harry’s bedroom” for the weekend.

Once they entered the mudroom, Harry could see an artfully decorated, open floor plan beyond the inner entrance. The great room looked to be done up in rustic décor, but with refined elegance in some of the furnishings and accent pieces. There was a bar spanning the length of one side of the room, separating the great room from a large state of the art kitchen. He exhaled as he followed Louis deeper inside, letting out a low whistle.

“This place is…phenomenal.”

Louis smiled broadly and opened up the curtains that cloaked the floor-to-ceiling windows of the great room. The view beyond was the lake and snow drenched-trees and brush lining the shores. It was tranquil and the perfect place to lose his humanity, Harry thought.

Louis ran his hands down his hips and the front of his thighs, a small nervous quirk of his, Harry had noticed. “You, um…hungry? Thirsty?”

Harry closed the gap between them and cradled Louis’ face in his hands, looking down at the smaller man, eyes wide and full of longing. “No. I think we should just get down to it, don’t you?” He lowered his face more so that he could press his lips to Louis’, an undeniable spark passing between them as it had so frequently over the last few days.

Louis hummed into the kiss and took charge immediately, backing Harry up to the bar. Harry grunted when his back hit, but the dull punch of pain was nothing compared to that thing Louis was doing with his tongue.

Finally, when Louis broke the kiss, Harry found the one word he could, the only thing he could think to say. “ _Please._ ”

Louis nodded along the column of Harry’s neck, bending slightly so he could scoop Harry’s legs up and fold them over his arm. Harry squeaked as he was lifted up into Louis’ arms, bridal style. “Louis!”

Louis’ teeth grazed the side of Harry’s neck, making Harry shiver, the anticipation creating a deep sense of longing inside of Harry, different than anything he’d ever felt before. It was like being a little kid and waiting for summer hols all year long and then, the day before, the whole day was the longest one of your life. Like it would never happen, but he knew it would. With great certainty. He knew he would wake up tomorrow and be completely different. His whole life would change.

“What?” Louis stopped, halfway between the great room and what Harry assumed was the bedroom. His arms felt solid under Harry, and he wasn’t exerting himself at all under Harry’s weight. Harry locked his fingers around the back of Louis’ neck, feeling his pulse flutter wildly at the closeness between the two of them.

“You—you’re carrying me.” Harry pressed his face to Louis’ neck. He took a deep breath and smelled worn leather and floral spice and Louis. It was familiar and comforting now, more comforting than Harry’s own mum smelled to him.

Louis quickly jostled Harry into place so that his long legs were wrapped around Louis’ waist. Louis used one hand to turn Harry’s face up toward his, his other arm holding Harry upright and in place. He licked into Harry’s mouth, tiny pinpricks of electricity whirring through Harry’s body at lightning speed. Louis’ mouth was so hot, so _insistent_. Harry kissed back, as much as he could with his breath stalling and stuttering the way it was. His mind raced with the idea that he would be able to kiss Louis like this for the rest of his life.

And that was…just so overwhelming. Harry’s toes curled in his winter boots, and he felt hot all of a sudden. There was too much separating him and Louis right now. Too much space. Too much clothing. Too much skin. He wanted so much from him and he wanted it now.

Louis navigated the two of them into the bedroom, careful to protect Harry’s head and his dangling feet. He kept his lips on Harry’s face, his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead…Harry could feel a sense of belonging and desire and intensity that was nearly too much. It made him crave Louis, crave him like really good chocolate or fine wine.

He wanted more.

As he was dropped gently on the bed, the quilt beneath him silky and plush, he wriggled out of his parka and jumper, leaving him bare-chested and heaving. Louis loomed over him and stared down at him with lust in his eyes. “Harry…”

Harry opened his arms and kicked off his boots while he scooted up the bed, admiring the way the warm afternoon light streamed in the room and illuminated the smooth pale lines of Louis’ body. He loved Louis’ skin, how satiny and creamy it was. He had asked him, earlier in the week, about whether vampires could go outside or not. Was he truly a creature of the night, he had joked. Louis had grinned and, kissing the spot behind Harry’s ear with wet lips and clever teeth, had whispered, “Depends on what kind of creature you mean…”

Harry had lost himself for a moment then, lost in the feeling of Louis’ body on his and his mouth melding with his own so that he couldn’t push the question any further. Later, Louis explained that they could go outside just like everyone else in the daytime. Their eyes were more sensitive to light, though, so they just made sure to wear sunglasses. Basically, they really were like humans in every way. Aside from the bloodsucking part.

Louis pulled his own shirt off, his jacket somewhere in the great room, and crawled over Harry, straddling him as he kissed him again. It had been too long, in Harry’s opinion, as their mouths met and found an easy rhythm again. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a combination of nerves and adrenaline, desire and need coursing through his body.

“Baby.” Louis stopped kissing and looked into Harry’s eyes, his brows knitted together in concern. “You’re shaking.”

Harry bit his lip and could see Louis’ eyes change from dusty blue to vibrant periwinkle, the light from outside catching the irises like a prism. “I’m…I’m just nervous all of a sudden?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m fine with whatever you choose. We will figure it out…all of it, Harry. I just…”

Harry found Louis’ hands and entwined his fingers in Louis’ icy grasp. “I want to,” he whispered. “I just…want everything, you know?”

Louis’ face bloomed happiness, like a slow-growing flower in spring, as he whispered, “I’ll give it to you, darling. Everything.”

Harry nodded once and pulled Louis closer, their chests bumping, the heat from Harry mingling with the cool from Louis, creating a murky mixture that seemed to soothe Harry’s skin from the inside out. Soon, they were kissing again and Harry felt like he was floating. The bed underneath and the firm presence of Louis above him made him feel like he was protected, invincible in some way.

Louis pulled away after a few long moments and grabbed Harry’s arms, lifting them above Harry’s head. He pinned his wrists so that he could hold him still. “Ok?” he asked, checking Harry’s eyes for an answer.

“Ready, Louis. So, so ready.” Harry was breathless, the ache and anticipation making every cell in his body throb and coil.

 

The sun was setting, low in the sky, winter pulling it faster to earth with every sigh, kiss and breath shared between them. Harry could see a golden pink halo of light surround Louis, and he could swear that this image, this memory, would stay with him forever. The moment that he gave himself to Louis, to eternal life, by his side, would stay frozen like a photograph, crystalline in his mind’s eye forever. Louis’ hair fell over his endless navy blue eyes and his mouth was full and swollen from their shared kisses. Harry wished he could paint because the portrait of Louis above him, preparing to bring Harry deeper into his life, full of promise and devotion…it was positively ethereal.

Louis lowered himself so that he could mouth Harry’s neck. Harry felt like he was lowering himself into a hot bath…the water too hot so that it left tiny stabs of pain with each inch of water licking over sensitive skin. He could feel the pain of desire so acutely, he wanted to scream. He wanted Louis to hurry the fuck up but at the same time he never wanted this moment—this experience—to end.

The moment Louis’ teeth pierced his skin, for the second time in less than a fortnight, and Harry felt the air leave his body in a rush of tumultuous force. He suddenly felt a desperate stab of pain followed immediately by a current of pleasure that he’d never known before. Immense gratitude and relaxation flooded his body, his legs falling open numbly as he moaned in the still room. He could feel his blood whirring in his body, pulling him to Louis’ greedy mouth like a vortex. The feeling was like riding a roller coaster, going up, up, up; higher and higher until he couldn’t stand the dizziness as he looked out over the precipice, the horizon spanning before him, bright and unfettered. It was like the moment before the drop. So, so high.

His hands were bound by Louis’ strong grip and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, the sensation of his blood leaving his body and entering Louis’ all-encompassing…incapacitating him. All he really wanted was to wrap himself around Louis and feel like this forever.

Louis pulled himself away, his entire body shaking with the effort to do so. Harry could feel every line and ridge of his smaller frame as his muscles moved over him. He seemed to be pulsing in time with Harry’s heartbeat, the blood that he’d just taken from Harry bringing them together like two instruments in concert with one another. His face was flushed pink, something Harry had never seen on him before; he was normally like pale sculpted marble. His eyes were wild, flashing turquoise and cobalt in quick succession, almost like a strobe light. His entire body nearly levitated over Harry. Harry, who was shaking and writhing on the bed, the feeling of his heart beating slower and slower as he slipped further and further into delirium.

Louis. Louis. Louis.

Louis was suddenly alongside him, pulling him to his body so that they curved together face to face. Harry watched in a hazy stupor of bliss as Louis dragged his inner wrist over his blood soaked incisors, the paper thin skin slashing open in a weeping slit of viscous red. “Drink, Harry. Drink.”

Harry tangled his legs with Louis, sighing as he felt his eyes drooping closed. Bathed in a deep flush of endorphins and cortisol, he was light and airy, yet heavy and dense, like the indigo-stained clouds outside their window.

“Drink, love. Drink.”

He heard Louis’ bright, clear voice from far away. His skin was tingly and he could actually hear his pulse pounding in his ears, like a song from a distant speaker lulling him to sleep.

Suddenly, his mouth was flooded with the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. Like honey, but with a lingering aftertaste of undefined spice. It was delectable. Amazing. Familiar. It was like something Harry had drunk before. But he couldn’t place it. And he needed more. All of it.

He rolled over on top of Louis, and pulled Louis’ wrist forcibly to his lips with both of his hands, Louis’ blood rushing into his mouth in thick aromatic bursts. He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowed out, eyes closed, lost in pleasure at the taste and feel of his body joining Louis’ in this exchange of lust and passion and life blood.

Harry could hear Louis cry out in ecstasy, Harry’s mouth covering his wrist and his body pinning him down, effectively immobilizing him. Harry could feel his strength and power gathering, increasing, with every slow pull of Louis’ blood into his body. Louis’ free hand clutched at the taut skin covering the small of Harry’s back, as Harry took what he wanted. He took and took and felt his skin tremble with the feeling of it all.

“Harry. Harry!”

Harry’s head was swimming with lust and greed and the need to _feed_.

“Too—too much. H—Harry…” Louis’ voice pulled him out of the depths of what was quickly becoming a feeding frenzy.

Louis pushed at Harry’s shoulders and Harry popped off of Louis’ arm with a grunt, falling to the side and then backwards to the mattress, his hair fanning out behind him, a small streak of blood lining a clump of strands nearest his mouth.

Harry was panting, dragging deep lungfuls of air until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Not because he had enough air to satisfy him. Because he literally had stopped breathing.

Louis crawled up Harry’s torso and looked down at Harry, whose eyes were wide and mouth hung open. Louis’ own eyes were hazy and slightly unfocused, clouded over in a post-feeding delirium. “Just relax into it Harry. It’s just like we talked about…you will stop breathing, then you’ll feel your heart slow and stop and then everything will come into focus.”

They _had_ talked about it. Louis had explained the turning like seeing the world through a sensory magnifying glass. Everything would change in an instant. Harry would hear everything, see everything, _understand_ everything. It would feel a bit like putting on glasses for the first time; everything crystal clear and bright—nearly too bright. It would take some adjustment.

Something stirred inside Harry, a tiny place of knowledge, strength, coming out of the frozen ground after a long winter. He could feel it growing and growing until it took over the center of his chest and radiated outward, a forest of ivy and evergreen rolling like fog through his body. His head snapped toward the window. He heard the sound of a branch snapping. He could actually see the bird flying away hurriedly as the dried wood dropped like a stone to the snow below. The snow crunched like gravel under tires when the branch connected and rolled to a stop. _It was across the lake_.

“ _Louis_.”

Louis nodded and stared deep into Harry’s eyes. “I know, love. I know.”

Harry’s arms twitched and his hands flexed into fists as he felt the dull thrum of his heart decrease its tempo. Bum, bum, bum…bum…bum…bum. Bum. Bum. Slower and slower it dropped until Harry couldn’t feel or hear anything. Just nothingness.

Empty and vast.

Wild eyed, Harry flipped Louis off of him and sprang out of bed. A trickle of dried blood was smeared across the pale column of his throat and his lips were stained a deep wine colour. His eyes had turned a wild shade of chartreuse and were framed by darker, thicker lashes than they had been when he was human.

Human.

He was no longer human.

Harry paced to floor, not realizing at first that he wasn’t just pacing, he was _vibrating_ his way across the room—his superhuman speed barely noticeable to the human eye.

Which he wasn’t anymore.

“Fuck, Louis.” Harry stopped and ran his hand through his thicker more richly coloured chestnut hair. “I’m…you…you did it.”

“ _We_ did it,” Louis corrected cautiously.

Harry stalked toward Louis, watching as Louis inched back infinitesimally on the mattress. “We…” He stopped in front of Louis and cupped his cheeks, eyes flickering excitedly between Louis’ eyes and his mouth. “I’m a vampire.”

Louis gripped Harry’s soft hips and pulled him forward until he came to rest between Louis’ open legs. Harry bent down and brought their lips together. Louis whispered, against Harry’s warm, waiting mouth, “This is the final step. Are you sure?”

Harry answered by pushing Louis backward on the bed, a surge of inhuman desire and emotion cresting inside his empty chest, “Definitely,” he said. With that, Louis pushed his tongue inside Harry’s mouth, the taste of their combined blood joining together, swirling like an elixir on their tongues. Louis clutched Harry’s broad back, dragging him on top of him.

“Harry,” Louis cried out, as their blood kiss cemented their bond, both of their bodies fused together now by an immortal conjoining that signified one thing and one thing only: mated. Harry could almost feel every cell of Louis’ body join his. He felt the way his entire body ached for Louis, his essence, his lifeblood becoming one with Louis’.

It was intensely magical. Like nothing Harry could have ever imagined.

And it was everything all at once. Familiar, comforting. Insanely perfect and good.

Harry surged forward and claimed Louis’ mouth again, the kiss quickly turning passionate, deeper than ever before. Harry wanted to know Louis in every sense of the word. He wanted to ride this high, better than any other, for as long as his new body would allow. To Louis they were joined eternally, but to Harry, there was one thing left to do, one last human pleasure that he wished to explore as a vampire for the first time. With Louis.

As the sun finally lost its battle with the day, darkness descending over the private house in the woods, Harry laid claim to Louis in another way. And later, much later, as Louis lay in Harry’s stronger, more solid arms, Harry’s thoughts tapped out a singular beat. _Mine, mine, mine_.

Louis smiled and offered his lips again to his mate. Just as Harry drifted off to sleep he swore he heard an answer. _Yours, yours, yours_.

***

The weekend went quickly. Mostly Harry and Louis stayed in bed while Harry had his “training,” as Louis put it.

Louis taught Harry how to move at a human speed and to focus on human-like mannerisms and quirks. He showed Harry how to control his thirst and how to censor all of the external stimuli that constantly assaulted his senses at a quick-fire pace.

They kissed a lot.

Learned each other’s bodies.

The fed off of each other. Which was…almost better than anything else they could do together.

Louis introduced Harry to the synthetic blood that he and his coven subsisted on. Harry winced at the slightly sour tang of it. Louis shook his head as if dealing with a toddler, pricking his finger with one sharp incisor so that he could mix a few drops of his own blood into Harry’s drink. Harry took one sip, closed his eyes and moaned, “Much better.”

Harry learned that when he was excited, in that way, his fangs would pop out unbidden and embarrassingly fast. Louis thought it was adorable. Harry was mortified.

“You’ll learn to control that too,” Louis had whispered against his mouth, dragging him back toward the bedroom.

Harry didn’t want to control it. Not if it got him in bed with Louis again.

Louis seemed just as gone as Harry. He was all smiles and fond looks and soft touches. Harry wanted to stay like this forever, but in the back of his mind he knew this was just temporary. There was a serial killer vampire to catch after all. But still…they made the most of their time together and Harry was absolutely delighted.

One thing the two of them discovered was that Harry seemed to take to being a vampire like a child to ice cream. He was quick and adept at learning all of the important skills Louis taught him. He also seemed to be incredibly strong. Much more so than Louis anticipated. Which was kind of…hot. Harry liked manhandling Louis a bit, showing off for him. And Louis just took it in stride, chiding Harry when he got too boisterous, but smiling broadly just the same.

As they left the house on Monday morning, a bit of sadness clung to Harry as they pushed outside into the bitter cold (not that Harry could feel it—being a vampire had its perks). Harry stopped and covered his ears abruptly.

“What is it love?” Louis stopped and looked at him as he was turning the key in the lock.

“It’s…aaaahhh…” Harry doubled over, holding his hands to his ears.

Louis dropped to his knees and pulled Harry to his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

“It’s so loud!” Harry exclaimed, squeezing his eyes closed tight.

Louis shushed him and ran his hands over Harry’s jumper clad back, his coat stuffed in his rucksack. “I know, I know,” he murmured, “It’s like I told you. You have to just…isolate each sound for a moment. Then you can shut certain things out.”

Harry rocked inside Louis’ embrace, his jaw clenched tight as he tried to listen to Louis, but finding it nearly impossible over the noisy din echoing inside his head.

“Shhh…shhh…” Louis murmured, “Tell me what you hear.”

“I—I hear—birds. The water. Wind. Trees moving. Snow—snow melting? I can hear the cars on the motorway…and—and the lights? God, can I hear the lights on the motorway?” Harry looked up at Louis in bewilderment.

Louis smiled down softly. “Yeah. Probably. Your hearing will be better than mine at first. Sight and smell too. What else?”

Harry felt himself calming down by the second. He gently pulled away from Louis, standing up and pulling Louis with him. The stood pressed together as Harry tilted his head and listened, the sounds not so painful now that he was isolating them one by one. “I hear—a woman laughing? Where…?”

They both looked around and saw nothing, even with their superhuman sight no one was anywhere near them in their quiet house in the woods. Louis looked up at Harry, pressing his hands to his cheeks. “I can’t hear that, Haz. You must be hearing something farther than I can.”

Harry smirked. “So, what you’re saying is that I’m a better vampire than you?”

Louis squinted his eyes and playfully slapped Harry’s right cheek, practically making the dimple jump off his face. “I said no such thing.”

Harry sucked Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at it slightly, drawing one bright crimson drop of blood. “Race you.”

And then, Harry was gone, a swirl of snow and leaves left fluttering in his place. Louis muttered under his breath, “Little shit!” And then he was gone too, chasing Harry through the woods, around the lake and into the day beyond.

The future looked incredibly bright, despite the dismal gray clinging to the world around. Harry could hear Louis’ laughter ringing through the woods and across the lake. And that was all he really needed to hear.

***

Settling back into life at home was a bit harder than Harry expected. First, he found it hard to not be around Louis all the time—they had decided that they needed to ease into the living together thing, if only for appearances with Harry’s roommates (there was the whole Zayn factor which was…slowly working itself out). Harry felt pulled by Louis constantly, like a burning itch under his skin.

Second, the way Niall smelled was unreal to him. It was this mixture of boy and beer and blood and it was slowly killing him. Not really, but still. And it took a lot of concentration to not suck every drop of blood out of his happy-go-lucky body. So. There was that. Lots of awkward exchanges that Harry blamed on exhaustion and the lingering effects of the flu, which Niall didn’t seem to completely accept.

Third, while they were away there had been another murder, somewhat completing the grisly map Harry had started. The letter “H” stared at Harry from the centre of the map he’d kept carefully folded under his pillow. It was burning a hole through the dense layers of down and polyester so he had just pulled it out and was staring at it while sitting cross-legged on his twin bed. Louis was due home in the next hour and they had planned to meet up at his flat to do some strategizing about the murders.

Harry was looking back and forth between the newspaper clippings, the map and some site he had pulled up on the internet about vampire lore. Nothing made sense, yet it all seemed to be connected in some really obvious way that Harry just couldn’t make out. His phone buzzed next to him, pulling him out of his focused concentration. He giggled. The nickname he came up with for Louis in his contacts was _hysterical_.

_Do you have any seltzer water?_

_Nope—can get some. Master._

_Quit calling me that._

_Can’t help it. Master._

_Did you change your phone yet?_

_Nope. Master._

_Harold._

_Yes? Master_.

_I’m going to beat your ass when you get down here._

_I’d like to see you try. Master_.

_I’m still stronger than you. Master._

_You are infuriating. Bring the seltzer_.

_Yes Master._

_…_

Harry clicked his phone off with a giggle. Teasing Louis was so fun. Harry felt like it was practically his duty to help him lighten up. He’d been so serious lately, wanting to protect Harry and all that. But they needed to have some fun too, right? So. Harry teased him. And made him look away from the map and the clippings and play cards or watch films or kiss Harry. And all of that was fun. Just being with Louis was fun. It was probably the most fun he’d ever had, if he was honest, and that was…something.

Hauling himself off the bed, Harry tucked all of his vampire murder stuff into his backpack and went out into the flat. Ed was out at a gig and Niall was in the kitchen making some popcorn.

“Where ya off to, Hazza?”

“Hanging out with Louis tonight.” Harry pulled out his parka, even though he didn’t need it. Appearances.

“Whatcha need your coat for? Last I checked your new boyfriend just lived down the hall?” Niall’s voice was teasing.

“Oh. Gotta run down to the shop to get something. I’ll head over there right after. Need anything?”

“Nah. Got my popcorn and I’m catching up on _Game of Thrones_ tonight.” He leaned against the counter facing Harry. “You guys are getting pretty serious huh?”

Harry thought if he could blush he would. Louis made him get all excited and nervous and happy in this blurring blend of crazed emotions. He carefully ran his tongue over the bottoms of his front teeth. Good. No fangs. He felt like a teenager getting inappropriate boners all the time at just the thought of Louis. Only it was his incisors poking out and, well…not other parts.

“Yeah…” Harry finally replied dreamily. “He’s… _amazing_.”

Niall gave Harry a lopsided grin from across the room. “Glad you’re happy, H.”

Harry nodded and looked at his friend, wrinkling his nose a bit at the bright, tantalizing odor he let off. “Yeah. Thanks. So…I’m off, yeah?”

“See you tomorrow?”

Harry wiggled his eyebrows. “If I’m lucky.” He could hear Niall guffawing as he jogged down the stairs and out into the dark, crisp night.

Harry was getting used to having mega-senses but sometimes it was a barrage of intensity that really overwhelmed him. He slowed to a deliberate walk once he got past his building, working on isolating each sense and experience in rapid succession as un-obviously as possible—just like Louis taught him. He could smell the falafel from the restaurant on the next block over. He heard the tap-tap of a woman’s heels behind him and the sizzle of a bulb burning out in one of the streetlights. He smelled diesel fuel from a truck about four blocks away along with a man’s cologne as he entered one of the shops across the street. He heard breathing—cold angry puffs of air coming from an overweight man crossing the street up ahead.

And then he _felt_ something.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he looked around quickly for a moment, stalling in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone was watching him. Harry scanned the street in front of him and across from him. He turned slowly, his eyes lasering in on every car, bench, tree, piece of litter he saw. He saw movement from behind a mini-van parked about a half a block behind him. He turned rapidly and walked toward it, his predatory instincts taking over every fibre of his being.

Harry’s long legs took each stride fluidly, his feet eating up the sidewalk underneath him. He saw another rapid movement, a shadow flitting from the van across the street and up a tree. He knew what he saw and it was far too fast for the human eye.

He quickened his step.

He sniffed the air, crossing the street in four fast strides. He could smell something vaguely familiar. Like incense and vanilla and…blood? Vampire blood.

He broke out into a run, watching the shadow move across the scattered tree line like a vapor. Because he was so new and his powers were basically unbridled and full of unrestrained energy, Harry caught up within milliseconds. He scaled the tree, his nails digging into the frozen bark like claws and tackled the entity that had clearly been stalking him. The two bodies whirled through the air, Harry’s hair whipping around them like a tornado as they dropped heavily to the ground below. They were in the middle of a public park, densely wooded and, thankfully, empty.

Harry had the other body pinned beneath him quicker than sight could track, the other creature sputtering pine needles and snow out of it’s mouth.

“You!” Harry growled, his fangs showing, and not out of arousal.

The blonde underneath him snarled and kicked at Harry feebly, the larger vampire solid and unyielding on top of him. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Harry blinked and recalled the exact moment, moving through files of memories like a rolodex in his mind. He had met this guy at his Halloween party. Anthony? Antoine? Something with an A. It was the guy that had propositioned Harry and then left abruptly when Harry had turned him down.

“Andrew you fucking moron. My name’s Andrew.” The man spit out beneath Harry, his own fangs bright and glittering in the moonlight.

Harry planted his knee in the centre of his chest and wrapped his large hand around Andrew’s narrow, delicate neck. Holding him in place, Harry adjusted himself so that he could gather his bearings.

“What—what are you doing here?”

“What the fuck does it look like?”

“Well. It looked like you were following me. Why?” Harry used his free hand to push his hair out of his face. Andrew lay still beneath him, although clearly still seething.

“No reason,” he replied, venom dripping from his voice.

“Why don’t we skip the bullshit, Andrew, and you just tell me what the fuck you were doing?” Harry was getting angry. He could feel it rising up into his neck, threatening to spill.

Andrew squirmed, but was held fast by Harry’s heavy leg and vice-like grip on his neck. “Fine.”

Harry loosened up a little but not completely, he still didn’t trust him.

“I…I knew you’d been turned. I…smelled you the other day. When you were going inside your building with that other guy…the short one with the arse.”

“You smelled me?” Harry said flatly.

“Well, you aren’t exactly subtle, Casanova.” Andrew’s voice was the epitome of sarcasm.

Harry made a mental note to ask Louis what that could possibly mean. “Why did you run?” Harry’s brain was catching up now that his predatory instincts were simmering.

“Didn’t want you to know it was me.”

Harry considered the thin vampire plastered to the ground underneath him. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was in the middle of a desolate park in the middle of the night. With another vampire. That he didn’t know existed until moments before.

This wasn’t exactly safe.

Standing up quickly, Harry released Andrew. He opened up his senses and could hear, see, smell more. For a moment he let himself decipher and analyze his surroundings. In the meantime, Andrew stood up and smoothed down his coat and fixed his hair, fluffing his fine feathery hair into a quiff. His molten chocolate brown eyes sized Harry up.

“Been less than a week then?”

“Hm?” Harry kept an eye on each of Andrew’s movements while also straining to hear anything else in the area.

“Since you’ve been turned,” Andrew stated boldly, as if Harry were an imbecile.

Harry stared at Andrew, his eyes narrowing to slits as he shot him his most menacing look. It seemed to work, if the way Andrew was cowering was any indication. “None of your business.”

Andrew laughed, bitter and short. “Fuck you.”

Harry stared back at him in disbelief. What the fuck was this guy’s problem? “Stay away from me.” Harry started to walk away, keeping his body turned enough so he could watch Andrew.

By the time Harry got back to the street and the bustling life that crowded the London street, he stopped shaking. Andrew’s last words clung to the edges of his mind. “Don’t count on it,” he’d said.

Harry wasn’t sure what he meant, but either way it felt like an omen.

***

“Tell me again.”

Louis hadn’t stopped pacing since Harry set foot inside the flat.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, still amazed at how much thicker and fuller it felt; the curls glossy and rich in colour. “I told you, Lou. That he could smell me. He knew I’d turned recently. And he said ‘don’t count on it’ when I told him to stay away from me.”

Harry was on one sofa, a glass of synth blood in his hand—the taste was growing on him, but nothing compared to Louis’ blood—and Zayn and Liam were crowded together on the other, leaning forward watching their master. Taking a long drink, Harry watched Louis, feeling unsettled but trying to remain calm.

“Look. I don’t know if it means anything…” he started.

“It means everything, for fucks sake, Harry!” Louis stopped and gestured at nothing in the air between them. “You’ve been being watched. And I let it happen. Fuck. Right under my nose.”

Liam started to say something but Zayn stopped him with a firm hand on his knee. Harry placed his empty glass on the table and crossed the room, pulling Louis into his arms. Louis went willingly, wrapping his arms around Harry’s midsection. Finally he spoke quietly, but everyone in the room heard, “’M scared, Harry. Can’t lose you.”

Harry felt his non-existent heart swell. He knew he was in love with Louis, had known it for some time, but this…this was really what it was about. Tragedy and violence had brought them together, but underneath it all there was this bond. This connection went beyond the blood bond or the need for Louis to protect him. They needed each other. Wanted each other. And now that they’d had a taste of what life together could be like, neither of them was willing to let it go.

“Then we fight,” Harry said simply, “We fight.”

Fighting, as it turned out, was analyzing Harry’s map and contemplating why Andrew, specifically, was stalking Harry.

It was Zayn who pieced it together. “He was at the party. He was the one sent to kill you. He drugged you, Harry.”

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. “Shit.”

Liam bit the inside of his cheek and agreed, “Makes sense. That’s what we suspected. Buy why? How is he connected to the Master?”

Louis refilled Harry’s drink and pulled him under his arm. Harry melted into his maker’s touch, always wanting to be near him, next to him. “You said he was Ed’s friend?”

Harry nodded and sipped his drink. “Yeah. From uni.”

Louis hummed and Zayn turned the map toward the him and Liam. “And this…this looks like an H, hate to tell you.”

“I know,” Harry murmured.

Liam closed his laptop. He pulled the map closer and drew a star at the spot Harry suspected would be the site of the next murder. “This is it. We just don’t know when.”

Harry closed his eyes. He felt tired all of a sudden. Vampires slept, contrary to popular belief, just not as much as humans. And, as a new vamp, he needed more sleep than most. Something about his extra sensitive senses, skills, metabolism….all of the canoodling with Louis was probably tiring him out as well. He smiled, feeling himself drift further into darkness. He could hear the soft voices of the boys around him, his coven, and burrowed further into Louis’ side. Just a few minutes. He would let himself rest his eyes for just a few minutes…

“Babe?” Louis’ voice was soft and insistent in his ear.

“Wha—?”

“You fell asleep.”

Harry opened his eyes and took in Louis’ lovely scent and his muted cobalt eyes. “Hm. I did. Did you guys fix everything?”

Louis chuckled and lifted Harry effortlessly, heading toward their room. _Theirs_. Harry smiled as his eyes drifted closed again. “Tomorrow, darling. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Harry felt Louis undress him and tuck him under the cool sheets, their mixed scent taking over his senses. Harry felt so loved, so calm, here in their bed, with Louis climbing in next to him. Louis pulled him closer and kissed the side of his head, wriggling his arm under Harry’s neck. “Tomorrow.”

Harry smiled again, not even caring that he looked dopey and lovesick. Tomorrow was fine. Tomorrow together.

***

Harry let himself into his flat, already feeling like it was less his and more just Niall and Ed’s. Anywhere without Louis felt foreign. He could hear Niall breathing down the hall. He checked the front door and saw both boys’ shoes. They were both home. He listened carefully and heard a shuffling from Ed’s room. Straining, he couldn’t hear him breathing but he could hear quiet music. Ed liked to sleep with music so maybe that’s why he couldn’t hear him. Or he was awake and just resting.

Either way, Harry knew what he had to do.

Glancing at the clock above the sick, Harry saw it was just after nine a.m. He washed his hands and set about preparing breakfast, eggs, sausage and some toast.He moved efficiently, scrambling Niall’s and making Ed’s soft boiled. He made his own over easy and placed it on top of the toast. He had just mastered eating solid food again after breakfast with Louis yesterday. Louis had instructed Harry to close of his sense of smell, since most of taste came from smelling the food. That way it wouldn’t be as repulsive to his newly-turned stomach. After a few tries he was able to do it. So much so that he was actually looking forward to eating with his flat mates again.

Just as he was pouring coffee for the three of them, Niall stumbled out of his room, scratching his bum through his boxers. “Haz! You made brekkie!”

Harry turned and leveled a blinding grin at Niall. “I did.”

Niall flopped into the chair at the small table and sipped the coffee Harry had just poured. “Missed this Haz. Must be feeling better, yeah?”

“Think so. That was a nasty flu.”

Niall studied Harry’s face as he sat down across from him. “Looks good on you.”

“Hm?”

“Getting laid on the regular.”

Harry snorted and flicked a piece of crust at him. Just as he was about to pick up his open faced egg sandwich, Harry heard Ed shuffling out of his room. He went to the loo, washed his hands and appeared in the dining area with a sheepish grin.

“Lads. Breakfast…” he mumbled, running a hand through his sleep rumpled hair.

Harry smiled at Ed and slid his plate forward. “Hey Ed. Eat up.”

Ed grinned and sat at the head of the small table. “Thanks.”

Harry hadn’t seen Ed since the day he left for the cabin with Louis. He still felt a little unsettled being around him, but now, with the Andrew connection, he had to get whatever information about Andrew from Ed that he could.

“Where’ve you been there, Edward?”

“Hm?” Ed hummed around a mouthful of sausage. “Been here and there. Busy with gigs and all that.”

Harry nodded his head and inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of his friends invading his mind and soul. Niall smelled like sleepy sweat and yesterday’s beer and popcorn, along with his cliché Irish Spring soap. Ed smelled like vanilla and jasmine and like the clove cigarettes he smoked when he played. Harry gagged a little on his toast as the scent of blood came through under the nuanced scents of the boys at the table.

Not just blood. Old blood. Something like death.

Harry pushed his plate away, startling Niall.

“Alright Harry?”

Harry regained composure quickly, the scent having faded as quickly as it came. He looked up and saw Niall studying him worriedly. Ed was looking at him blankly, hunched forward. “Yeah…yeah. I’m fine…just. Not hungry anymore.”

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost there Harry.” Ed said.

Harry watched his friend eat more eggs, mixed with crumpled up bits of toast. It turned his stomach. Maybe he just wasn’t ready for solid food yet. He laughed weakly at Ed’s attempt at humor and said, “Nah. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”

Niall seemed satisfied with that response as he shoveled the rest of his food in. Ed just continued watching Harry with a bemused look on his face. Harry pushed on. “So, lads. How about a boy’s night out tonight? What do you think?”

Niall beamed across the table, “Sure, yeah. I’m in!”

Both Niall and Harry looked at Ed. Ed put his fork down and pushed his plate away, “Sounds good. ’Ve got a gig tonight, how about after?”

Harry spoke first, “Yeah. Sounds good. Where’s the gig?”

“Julio’s.”

Niall pounded the table, “Fuck yeah! Love Julio’s. What do you think Harry? Watch Ed first and then have some pints?”

Harry nodded along. “Sounds like a plan.”

Ed started to get up, clearing his plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Harry.”

“Sure, no problem.” Harry cleared his throat. “Ed—saw one of you friends from university last night.”

“Yeah?” Ed placed his plate and cup in the sink.

“Andrew.”

Ed turned around and smiled brightly at Harry. “Andrew, huh? Fancies you a bit.”

“Me?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Oh yeah. Every time I see him he mentions you.”

Harry pondered it. Might as well. “We should invite him with tonight!”

Niall started to protest, but Ed answered too quickly. “For sure. Yeah. He’d love that.”

“What about Louis?” Niall asked.

“Hm. Louis.” Harry pretended to consider it. “Well, it’s good to keep my options open, right?”

Niall just blinked at Harry, a confused look on his face.

“Right.” Ed clapped a hand on Harry’s back, solid and firm, the surprising sting of it startling Harry. “I’ll give him a call.”

“Great. Do that.” Harry watched his friend amble back down the hall, rubbing his shoulder as the lingering scent of vanilla followed him.

***

_All set. Tonight at Julio’s._

_We’ll be there_.

_There’s a complication._

_Master._

_Fuck off, Harold._

_Complication?_

_Andrew’s coming._

_Fuck. Harry._

_I know! But this might be better._

_It’s dangerous._

_I’ll be fine. You’ll be there._

_I know. But…_

_I’ll still get the information we need from Ed. Don’t worry._

_I won’t let you out of my sight._

_I would expect nothing less. Master._

_Stop it!_

_Change my contact_.

***

Harry was really glad that the myth about mirrors wasn’t true.

Because he couldn’t stop staring at himself.

It’s not like he wasn’t good looking before. He knew he looked alright. It was just that… now… _now_ he looked fucking amazing.

His hair hung in perfect loose waves over his broad shoulders and his skin practically glowed under the amber lighting of his bedroom. His eyes gleamed lively shades of green, flashing pure celery green and then varying shades of spring and evergreen. His skin was pale and smooth—not a trace of a line or blemish. His button up shirt was left open to the top of his butterfly tattoo, showing an expanse of pure snow white muscle and skin that made Harry want to run his tongue over himself.

Well. That was maybe a bit too far.

But, fuck. He looked hot.

He ran his hands over his black denim-covered thighs and smirked at himself in the mirror. His legs had never been particularly muscled in life, but in this life—his new life—his thighs bulged under the denim and from the side he could see the neat definition between the front of his thigh and the back—whatever those muscles were. And his arse…

His arse bubbled out just a bit under his pink flamingo patterned satin shirt and the way it moved when he flexed…he was really something.

If he did say so himself.

Earlier, after he and Niall had shared a small supper of baked lasagne and a salad (Harry was finding it easier to eat human food if he just didn’t think about it), Niall had given a vague excuse about having to run an errand. Harry had teased him about it being to visit a bird he’d been talking about that he’d met through a client at work. Niall had blushed and flicked Harry on the ear before running out. Harry really hoped his friend had found someone. In his love-soaked-everything-coming-up-roses haze, Harry just wanted his friend to be happy. Like he was.

Running a hand through his shiny locks, grinning at his reflection as they fell perfectly back into place, he left the bedroom in search of Niall.

“There you are!”

Niall was sitting in front of the telly with a beer in his hand. “Where else would I be?” Niall teased.

“Dunno.” Harry flopped down next to him. “Thought you were still out.”

Niall gave him a once over and arched his eyebrows. “Nope. ’M back.” He studied his friend for a moment, tilted his head, and said, “Someone got all gussied up.”

Harry watched as his friend’s mouth rolled into a lopsided grin. It was getting easier to ignore the sound of Niall’s pulse and to not think about the way his blood smelled under his natural scent. Harry thought it was probably because he was fairly well-nourished with the synthetic blood that Louis was keeping him supplied with, but also because the idea of feeding from Niall was just…ew. It would be like having sex with your brother.

“Feeling better, that’s all,” Harry finally said. “What’s wrong with wanting to look good for a night out with the lads?”

Niall slugged back the remnants of his beer. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Just…”

Harry tilted his head.

“Just, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were getting dressed up for a certain blonde friend of Ed’s…”

Harry scoffed, “Nah, mate. Not my type. Just told Ed to invite him so we could you know, get to know him.”

Niall stopped where he was walking, halfway to the kitchen. “What was all that bullshit about keeping your options open then?”

And, shit. Harry had forgotten about that. “Right. Well, you know. Who knows what could happen, right?”

Harry had to admit that the words sounded awkwardly stupid coming from his mouth.

“Riiiiight,” Niall said, “You gonna tell me what’s going on, H?”

Harry stood up, anxious to change the subject, leave the flat…anything to get out from under Niall’s scrutiny. “Don’t know what you’re on about, Ni.”

Niall studied his friend for a moment, the laser-like focus of his blue eyes on Harry’s face something akin to illuminating the corner of a dark closet, showing all of the dust and dirt and secrets clustered in one tiny place. “Sure. Ok, Haz. If you say so.”

Watching his back as he went to the kitchen to throw away his bottle, Harry remembered to look like he was breathing. Fuck. Acting human was harder than he thought sometimes. He’d have to do better if he wanted to really convince Niall.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” Harry joined Niall at the door and took his jacket and Niall struggled to get his own out of their stuffed front hall closet.

Julio’s was less than a mile away, and the weather was mild so they decided to walk. It was relatively quiet, Niall commenting on the traffic and the weather, Harry content to just listen to the rhythmic sound of his friend’s words and breathing. Even though Harry felt a trickle of fear at the base of his spine about what might happen tonight, he was also just happy to be out and acting _normal_.

Pushing into the hot crowded pub, Harry became overloaded for a moment with the smells, sounds and the feeling of so many warm, blood-pumping bodies surrounding him at once. It was _so_ much.

Ed had already finished his earlier set and the crowd was pretty rowdy as a result, a combination of liberal servings of alcohol and raucous music. Harry could smell a mix of alcohol, sweat, perfumes, hair products, and…sex. It was a lot to shut down, shut out.

Niall didn’t seem to notice as he pushed his way to the bar to get the two of them a drink.

“I’ll have a Guinness. What do you want, Harry?”

Harry looked at Niall, confusion in his eyes. What did he want? What _did_ he want?

“Haz!” Niall snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face, a wide smile taking over his face. “Quit spacin’ out and order yer drink, will ya?”

“Drink. Oh! Right. I’ll…um…” He and Louis hadn’t talked about drinks. They’d talked about how to deny the urge to feed, how to act human, how to move human. They hadn’t talked about something simple like ordering a drink. “I’ll just have what he’s havin’”

Niall stared at his friend for a beat longer than necessary. “Yer fuckin’ weird tonight, pal.” He shook his head and turned back to the bar to pay.

The two of them pushed toward the small stage at the back of the bar, snagging a table along the wall in a sweaty struggle of limbs and a string of polite mumblings of “excuse me” and “pardon me.”

“Shite! It’s crowded in here tonight!” Niall said as he settled into his chair.

Harry nodded in agreement, opening up his senses to take in the smells and sounds of the space. Immediately he smelled Louis. Looking around wildly, he spotted his mate under the shadows of a large fake palm tree in the far corner of the bar. It was nearly comical, the sight of suave, debonair Louis pressed up against a wall, bathed in darkness with a palm tree for cover. But Harry didn’t laugh, he didn’t really feel like it, the risk of what was happening tonight pressing in.

Louis gave him a roll of the eyes and a small smile. It was enough to have Harry’s stomach flipping and his arctic blood boiling hot.

Sensing Liam’s presence, he turned his head and could smell him, a soft Sunday roast kind of smell underneath the scent of the coven—leather and freesia. And there was Zayn…spicy tobacco and something like cilantro, layered with the smells of his coven-mates. The scent of the three other boys seemed to calm Harry from the inside out, as Harry feigned taking a deep breath and relaxing into his chair. Breathing was actually very soothing, and, in a way; it made him feel human still. And that was a sort of singular comfort to Harry, beneath the excitement of learning his supernatural abilities.

“’S great that Ed’s gotten so big, yeah?” Niall shouted across the table.

Harry nodded in agreement, forcing his eyes to stop their quick darting around the room. He knew he looked crazed, trying to see everything all at once. He focused on Niall, giving him a small smile, feeling weak under his examination again.

“Fuck, Harry. You’re starting to really freak me out.” Niall’s voice was low and quieter than before, but Harry knew it still carried. At least for the three other vamps in the room.

“Wha—what? Niall! ’M fine. I swear!” Harry hoped he was convincing.

Niall just shook his head and turned back toward the stage, watching as Ed and his bandmates hooked up their guitars and amplifiers. Harry hoped Niall would forgive him for not telling him the truth. Eventually he’d have to tell Niall what was going on, but for now it was best that his friend was kept in the dark.

Ed grabbed the microphone and like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, he turned on his stage persona. “Hello London!” he yelled.

The crowd started cheering and stomping their feet. Harry smiled at his friend and attempted a swig of his beer. He had to force himself to not spit it right back out. Vile stuff that was. It wasn’t like, say, Louis’ blood.

“Gonna play a few more songs here for ya…before we call it a night. Hope you like them…” Ed’s face was alight with colorful beams from overhead. Harry had never noticed it before but Ed had beautiful coloring, his pale creamy skin satiny smooth beneath his carrot orange hair. Probably the sharper vision, he thought, helping him see everything that much more clearly.

The crowd cheered again as the first chords of a familiar song rang out through the bar. Harry laughed out loud when he heard Ed start to sing.

_People are strange when you’re a stranger_

_Faces look ugly when you’re alone_

Ed was a known Doors lover. But this song was slowed down to the point where Harry could hardly recognize the familiar melody. It sounded haunting, almost macabre, the way Ed was singing it.

_When you're strange_

_Faces come out of the rain_

_When you're strange_

_No one remembers your name_

Bodies were swaying and some people were singing along. Harry could smell the pungent odor of marijuana and spilt beer just behind him. The only light in the jammed space were the spotlights fixed on Ed and his band. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. A sense of foreboding. He just wasn’t sure why.

Harry was just starting to become lulled into a trance with the music and the low lighting and the swell of bodies all around him when he heard something. From far away, as if in a tunnel, Harry heard a scream. He turned his head sharply in the direction of the scream, and saw nothing. No one else around him seemed to either. He looked at Niall, who was transfixed by the band and seemed completely oblivious.

Then, he heard it again.

Loud. Shrill. “Help!”

Unmistakable.

Harry was out of his seat in a second, ignoring the way that Niall looked at him with concern and completely unaware of the fact that he just spilled his pint glass. He had to find the source of that noise.

Racing out the side exit, the one marked “emergency only,” Harry tore out into the night. He found himself in an alley, the smell of trash and cat piss and grime assaulting his senses at once. Then he caught it.

The undeniable scent of blood. Fresh blood. And a lot of it.

He heard the cry for help again, muffled and waning in the sharp, cold night. He didn’t stop to consider his options, he just ran. Ran toward the scent and the sound, his fangs popping out and his body on high alert. He was in predator mode and ready to fight.

Harry ran for about eight blocks, his supernatural body covering the distance in seconds, until he came to the park where he had confronted Andrew a few nights before. He paused, clenching and unclenching his fists, and sniffed the cold air.

Blood.

He zeroed in on a dark patch of forested border near the edge of the park. He approached it quickly. Only when he got there…there was…

Nothing.

But he smelled blood. He could have sworn it was blood…

Dropping to his knees, Harry scented the ground. He lifted a hand and came up with scarlet staining his palm. Pulling his hand to his face he smelled it. Blood. Definitely human blood. But where was the body?

Confused, Harry stood up and spun wildly around. Shadows, shrubbery, a fine dusting of snow covering the colder spots of the uneven ground. But nothing else. No one. No body. Nothing.

Harry heard footsteps falling fast on the sidewalk and could smell the familiar scent of Louis and his coven. He must have scared the shit out of them, running off like that. He turned toward the sound of their footfalls, still blocks away, preparing to take off, run toward them and bring them back to his discovery when—

_Crack, pop._

A twig snapped.

Not a large twig. A tiny one, from the sound of it. But a twig.

And then he smelled it.

Death. And vanilla.

And incense.

His instincts took over then, the urge to flee consuming his body and senses. Just as he was turning to escape, he felt a stab in his neck. A sharp, bitter yelp rang out through the night. And, just as Harry collapsed to the ground, he realized it was him. That sound of pain and anguish was him.

***

An aching, immobilizing pain that rang out through Harry’s neck and radiated throughout his arms and torso and down his legs. It was a pain like he’d never known in his short time as a vampire.

It was a complete pain in the ass.

Literally and figuratively.

He was trapped in a dark and dusty room. He sniffed. Deserted. Harry couldn’t hear anything except a slow murmur that might have been voices or an appliance—he couldn’t be sure—he was really disoriented. Grunting, he tried to sit up, but a scorching pain in his wrists stopped him. Glaring down, he could see thick linked chains wrapped around his arms and wrists and draped over his legs. Every movement or twitch intensified the pain. He was afraid he would pass out with the agony of it.

Apparently silver was one of the myths that was true.

Harry groaned before he could stop himself and noted the complete eerie silence that followed. Then, ominously, he heard footsteps coming from outside the room. The door flew open to reveal a tall, slim, blonde vampire on the other side.

“Ah. I see you decided to wake your lazy arse up.” Andrew’s voice was clear and high, and every bit as annoying as Harry remembered it.

“How—how long was I out?”

“Just a few hours princess,” Andrew said, his voice singing in mockery.

“Why—wha—?” Harry’s mouth was dry and he felt weak with thirst. _Hunger_. “What did you give me?”

“Oh that?” Andrew pretended to inspect his fingernails as he came closer. “Just a little thing we like to use to keep meddling vampires like yourself in their place.”

Harry glared at him, struggling to keep still, the biting pain of the silver like jaws clamping around his wrists and legs.

“Ok, fine. I gave you an injection of cedar and juniper extract.”

“Cedar and what?”

“God, you are so simple. I don’t know what Lewis sees in you.”

Harry’s head was spinning. He was dizzy and weak and just wanted to _kill_ Andrew. “Louis,” he corrected, anger clear in his voice.

“Cedar. And Juniper.” Andrew spoke slowly, staring down at Harry like he were a complete idiot. “Deadly to vampires?”

Deadly to vampires? What? “How much—?”

“Not enough to kill you obviously. Master wouldn’t allow it.” Andrew kicked at Harry’s foot, making Harry hiss in pain. Andrew smiled, the expression doing nothing to make him more likeable. “Just enough to…make you _docile_.” Harry squirmed, clenching his teeth at the action, his fangs sinking into his tongue. He tasted his own blood.

“Anyway. Just enough to get you here. Not enough to actually hurt you, unfortunately.”

Harry looked at Andrew, bewildered. “Who are you working for?”

Andrew laughed. Harry cringed at the sound of it, creepy and shrill. “Working for? _Working for_ ? You imbecile. I’m my Master’s _mate_. Mate. Jesus, you really don’t know how this stuff works, do you?”

“Mate?”

“Well, not just me. But…that’s no difference. I’m _one_ of his mates. His favorite. Which is why…” Andrew sneered, kicking Harry’s foot again. “I had the privilege of bringing you to him.”

Harry writhed and closed his eyes against the debilitating burn in the flesh of his lower arms and wrists. “Bringing me…what are you…?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Andrew warned, his voice lilting in teasing malevolence. And then he was gone.

Harry winced and closed his eyes, his mind whirling with unanswered questions as the dark bliss of sleep claimed him again.

***

_Louis_.

Harry woke with a start.

He wasn’t sure if he had called his Master’s name out loud or just in the recesses of his mind, but one thing was clear, the silver chains were melting the flesh off of his body.

He was in excruciating pain. So much so that he willed himself to go under again, if just to escape the feeling and _smell_ of what was happening in this dank room. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was positive he wouldn’t last much longer.

The silver had eaten through the fabric of his jeans and was fused to his skin below. His arms were bloody and raw and were aching from the strain it took to not move them.

Harry cried out in pain, not able to contain it. At this point he wasn’t sure he would ever see Louis again. His entire body called out for him. He just wanted him. His smell, his taste, everything about him. His entire being _needed_.

_Louis_.

This time he knew he didn’t say it aloud. But he did feel the word echoing through his mind like a drop in a pool of crystal blue water, the reverberations spiraling outward, concentric and pure.

Harry was straining to hear, but the silver seemed to be muting his other abilities, not just his strength, so he couldn’t hear much. He had no sense of what was happening beyond the walls of this room—which was quite disconcerting seeing as he’d become used to hearing _everything_ all the time.

He closed his eyes and called out for Louis in his mind.

_Louis_.

Again.

_Louis_.

He was drifting off into another pain induced sleep when he heard it. Loud and clear.

_Harry_.

He sat up, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of bone-crushing agony through his body.

_Harry. I’m coming._

He shook his head. There was no way he could hear that. _Did_ he hear that?

The door flew open. The bright light that streamed through the open door made Harry squint and his head ached from the harsh brightness. He couldn’t make out the figure that walked in but something about the way he held himself, walked, moved…was familiar.

“Ed?” Harry squeaked.

The figure came closer and squatted down next to Harry. “Oh thank god, thank god. It’s you. Get me…help me get out of these…” Harry felt relief course through his body like a tidal wave.

The man looked like Ed but didn’t smell like Ed.

In fact, all Harry could smell was death. Rotten, decomposing death. And it was clinging to Ed. And Ed, sweet kind Ed, was grimacing at Harry in such a way that Harry had to blink to see if he was really seeing the person in front of him. For a short moment he thought maybe he was imagining the whole thing, some sort of delusion, the result of silver poisoning.

“Harry.”

It was Ed’s voice. Harry was fairly certain he wasn’t dreaming now.

“Ed? What are you…?” Harry could just lie there limply while waiting to see what Ed would say or do next.

“You are such pretty bait, dear Harold.” Ed dipped his finger into the steaming mess of blood and tissue coagulating around Harry’s wrist, earning him a tortured wail. He licked his finger, smiling around it as he stood up and started pacing in front of Harry.

Harry whined and tried to inch away, but he physically couldn’t. What was happening? Confusion clouded his mind, and Harry couldn’t be sure if it was from seeing his friend so close and not helping him or the effects of the silver in his bloodstream.

Ed stopped in front of him and glowered down at him. “Played right into my hand, didn’t you?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t, his voice thick with anguish and emotion. He was starting to understand what Ed was telling him. Slowly, piece by miserable piece.

“You’re figuring it out then, aren’t you? Good boy.” Ed bent down and peeled a layer of denim away from Harry’s knee, taking a chunk of skin with it. He plucked it off the underside of the material and popped it in his mouth. “Mmmm. Can see why that bastard had to have you. You taste like a fuckin’ dream.”

Harry’s eyes were slipping closed, all of it too much to bear. His friend was a vampire? But evil? Had he…had he killed all those people?

Ed kicked him again, the sound of the chains loud and heavy against the dirty floor. Harry yelped and lay there, at his tormentor’s mercy. Ed crouched over him then, a maniacal look in his eye. “You just fit into my plan so perfectly, Harry. Didn’t even know it when you moved in with us, but yet…here you are. Perfect little pawn.”

Ed climbed on top of Harry, moving chains and flesh with his body as he went, until he was straddling Harry, holding his weight up with firm hands on his shoulders. The movement of the silver caused Harry’s vision to blur, the edges blackening like thick heavy smoke. Ed looked down at him, and he opened his mouth wide, a huge dark cavern of malice. And then, right before Harry’s eyes, two perfectly sharp, glistening white fangs popped out of Ed’s incisors.

“Ed…I…” Harry’s voice was slow and fevered, his body completely frozen in fear.

“Now, now.” Ed soothed, running calloused hands through Harry’s hair. Harry turned his head in an effort to wriggle out of Ed’s grasp, but Ed held fast. “Louis and his coven are on their way now. You did call to him, didn’t you?” He ignored Harry’s attempt at an answer. “And…well…I have no use for you any longer. So…I’m going to kill you now.”

Harry felt the world turn on its side. _Louis_ , his brain supplied, the agony of the moment rendering him useless, not able to think much else. He just wanted Louis to know that he cared so, so much for him and that he would always belong to him no matter what.

_Louis_.

Harry felt the ice from Ed’s skin pierce his own as he moved closer. He whispered in Harry’s ear, “I’m going to bleed you dry. Feed on you until there is practically nothing left. Going to take my fill and leave you here, almost dead, but not quite. I want to see your face…” He licked Harry’s cheek, making him shudder in disgust. “Want to see your face when I _eviscerate_ Louis.”

Harry bucked up at that, resolute that he would use the last of his strength to protect Louis. He managed to unsettle Ed just a fraction before succumbing to the blinding pain of the silver restraints. Ed regained his composure and, with a sneer on his face, turned back and pressed completely against Harry, his mouth pushing into Harry’s neck. Harry braced himself for what he was sure would be nothing nearly as pleasurable as having Louis feed from him when, all of a sudden, Ed was just…gone.

The next few moments were a blur. And later, when Harry tried to remember what happened with any kind of semblance of clarity, all he would know with absolute certainty was that one moment he was preparing to die with Louis’ name on his lips, and the next Ed was lying alongside him with an shiny silver arrow impaled through his body.

There was a flurry of movement and a great deal of shouting and within seconds Harry felt the hazy halo of pain drag him under and spit him back out again as the chains were lifted from his body and strewn across the room.

Niall was there, draping the chains over Ed’s body, the other vampire convulsing pathetically as the arrow and silver began to decimate and ravage his body. Harry could hear the sizzle of flesh and the tortured screams of the man he used to call his friend.

And then, there was Louis.

Louis was in front of him, on him, all around him. Kissing him, crying over him, kissing him some more. He slashed his wrist and pressed it to Harry’s mouth and Harry drank greedily, knowing, feeling, _sensing_ that this would bring him relief. Heal him.

“Harry! Oh Harry!” Louis cried over him, staring down at him as he drank from his maker’s wrist. The blood quickly coursed through his body and made him stronger and clear headed. His body pulsed with new found energy as he blinked up at Louis, whose eyes flashed silver gray and then a magnificent royal blue, lighting up the entire room.

Harry pulled away, reluctantly and said, “How? How did you…?”

Louis shushed him and pulled him up to standing, his body flush to Harry’s as they embraced. Harry smelled Louis’ scent and smiled at the familiarity, the _rightness_ of it.

“Where do you want this?” Zayn’s voice echoed through the room, casual, bored as ever. Andrew’s severed head was hanging from his left hand.

Just his head.

Harry cowered and hid his face inside the safety of Louis’ neck, letting the smaller vampire hold him close and protect him.

“With the other body.” Louis’ voice was calm and authoritative. Harry’s fangs may have popped out. Just a little.

Unearthing his face, Harry saw that Ed’s body was completely turned to bones and ash. Niall stood over him and watched, his face unreadable as he remained firm in his stance.

“Niall?”

“Oh, hey Haz.”

Oh, hey Haz? Harry gaped at his good friend.

Niall covered the body and the head—the head? Really?—with a blanket and closed the gap between himself and the pair with their arms around each other. Louis released Harry, but kept one arm around his waist. Niall threw his arm over Harry’s shoulder, standing on his other side. “We need to talk mate.”

“You think?” Harry asked, still not quite believing what had just transpired.

Liam walked into the room then, his arms and face speckled with blood. “There were four others, Lou. I think that’s all of them.”

“Great. Bring them in here. Niall knows the drill.”

Harry glanced at Louis and then back at Niall, one on each side of him. Shaking his head he felt a smile creep over his face.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on here…” Harry’s voice sounded normal and he could see that his arms were smooth and unscarred, thanks to Louis’ blood. “But, I expect all the details.”

He patted Louis on the bum and smacked Niall on the head. “ _All_ the details,” he repeated, doing his best to sound like a disappointed parent, but failing miserably, sounding more like a doting grandmother instead.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry stretched out in the smooth crisp sheets, the feeling of high thread count cotton on his bare skin positively sinful. He took a moment to appreciate the new day and the promise of many more to come. The other side of the bed was empty, but recently. Harry could still smell Louis and feel the chill of his body, so he knew he’d left the room only moments before.

Last night had been…wild.

After leaving the warehouse—that’s what it was, a warehouse in a run-down vacant part of town—Louis had tucked Harry safely into his car and drove them home. Harry didn’t ask any questions, he just listened to the sound of the road underneath them and the tiny whisper of fabric from Louis’ clothes and the way his fingertips sounded on the leather of the steering wheel. His mind was a blur of everything that had happened.

Back at Louis’ flat, Louis ushered him into the shower, following close behind, helping him to clean off the horror of the night (and day). He poured them two healthy glasses of synth blood and brought Harry to bed. The spent the rest of the day and well into the night talking about everything that had happened.

“What…I mean? What happened?” Harry could finally process thought, put his words into coherent meaning.

Louis sipped his drink and laced his fingers with Harry’s. “When you left the bar, Harry, I saw red. I couldn’t even remember what I was doing, where I was…I just knew I had to get to you.”

Harry nodded and laid his head on Louis’ shoulder. “’M sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I heard someone scream. I had to help them. It…it was almost like I didn’t have a choice.”

“So, Liam, Zayn and I raced out of the bar and tracked you. You’re really fucking fast, by the way.”

Harry smirked. He was proud of his baby vampire skills.

Louis continued, “Anyway, we had just gotten to the park and Niall pulls up. On a moped!”

Harry sipped his drink and furrowed his brows. Niall? On a moped? He remembered Niall’s mysterious “errand” earlier in the night. That must have been what he was doing. Bringing the moped to the bar.

“He told us that he’s a vampire hunter, if you can believe that. Zayn just about cut his head off.”

“I noticed he likes to do that,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Well,” Louis replied, “he is rather good at it.”

Harry shivered at the memory of Andrew’s decapitated head rolling across the floor next to Ed’s corpse. Ed. His friend, who turned out to be someone completely different than who Harry had thought he was. “Then what happened?”

“After Liam and I hauled Zayn off of Niall, he quickly told us he trusted us and that he’d been after Ed’s coven for years.” Louis shook his head, losing himself in his thoughts.

Apparently, Niall had been observing Louis and the boys for years. He came to the conclusion that they were harmless and left them alone, his real focus on the Master of the most bloodthirsty and villainous vampire families in Europe. Gathering intel from various sources, Niall had quickly ascertained it was Ed. He pulled some strings and got himself a job at the same place Ed worked and the rest was…well, history.

“How did you find all of this out?”

Louis blinked his eyes hard and pulled Harry closer. “We had some time. You know, while we were trying to figure out where Andrew took you.” Harry could feel the fear in the taut lines of Louis’ body.

Harry placed his glass, and then Louis’, on the nightstand. He pulled Louis on top of him and whispered against his mouth, “Hey, hey. It’s ok. I’m here. I’m safe.”

Louis closed his eyes and opened them again, the brilliant blue piercing in the dim room. “I was so scared.”

Harry gulped and wrapped his long arms around his mate. Louis brought their lips together in a sweet, long, tender kiss. Harry wanted to drown in that kiss. It made him ten times more grateful for surviving the night, for being able to be here, in this bed with Louis. “I’m safe,” he said once again, hoping Louis could hear the relief and gratitude in his voice.

After several long moments of kissing, Louis rolled off of Harry and tucked his arm under Harry’s neck. Their noses brushed and Harry could feel the sweep of Louis’ eyelashes against his cheeks when he blinked. Louis’ breath smelled like the synth blood they had just drank and like something more permanent, a bit like home.

“So when the murders started happening, did Niall know it was Ed?”

Louis caressed Harry’s hip, his fingers making small deliberate circles over the soft swell of skin that peeked out from beneath Harry’s clean white t-shirt. “Not right away. He started piecing it together right around the time of the Halloween party, too. Niall assumed it was Andrew doing the killing, since he was known to be, out of Ed’s mates, to be the most volatile. He said he could smell it on him that night.”

“Wait, hold up,” Harry interrupted, “He knew Andrew had been the murderer?” Harry thought back to that night, to Niall sending him out for ice, to the way Andrew had tried to seduce him—albeit not very smoothly. It was all coming together. Niall had been trying to protect him from Andrew, because he must have known Andrew meant to do him harm. Fucking Niall.

“He did,” Louis replied, “All he had to do was figure out a pattern and find a way to trap him. He figured he could get to Ed through Andrew.”

Jesus, Niall was clever.

Harry squirmed closer so he could drape one of his legs over Louis’ hip. Being close to Louis was good, but covering him, touching him at all places possible, was better. “Hey—how come you never suspected that Ed was a vampire?”

“Good question,” Louis answered. “Niall told me that one of the things Ed and his coven did was manufacture cedar and jasmine incense. Which, coincidentally, happened to be poisonous and potentially deadly to vampires. The smell masked Ed’s natural vampire scent, making him practically undetectable by other vampires.”

Louis went on to explain, as per Niall’s explanation, that Ed made a lot of money selling the incense on the vampire black market (“There’s a vampire black market?” Harry had asked incredulously) as well as in big chain stores. He also manufactured it to dispose of his rivals. It was easy to make it look like an accident that way, keeping attention away from him and his coven. He wasn’t affected by the poison himself because he and the members of the coven took an herbal antidote that kept them safe from the negative effects of the two extracts.

“Hm…makes sense,” Harry mused, remembering how Ed had always smelled to him and how Andrew had smelled as well.

“Yup. Which is why none of us suspected. I would have killed him the minute I found out. Especially if I knew what kind of danger you were in.”

Harry had snuggled up closer to Louis, smiling into his chest, reveling at the way his skin smelled, the way he felt beside him.

“I swear, Harry, I don’t know what I would have done if…” Louis’ voice broke then, making Harry break down too.

“I know, I know,” Harry shushed the smaller vampire, pressing kisses to his cheek and shoulder.

They had spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other, drying each other’s tears and kissing each other senseless. They learned each other’s bodies again as if they were brand new to one another and spent hours drinking from each other, lost in blissful union…

The knock at the door brought Harry back from his daydream.

“Someone here to see you.” Louis peeked his head in. Harry could see that his hair was fluffy and sleep-mussed. He looked divine.

Niall pushed his way in and flopped on the bed next to Harry. Harry beamed and launched himself into his friend’s arms.

“Niall!” he shouted.

Niall hugged him back, choking on laughter. “Hey! Hey! Are you naked under there. Oh god. My eyes! My eyes!”

“So, vampire hunter, huh?”

“Yup.” Niall stretched out next to Harry, his chest puffing up in pride.

Harry looked down at his friend. “I can’t believe…”

“Yeah,” Niall said softly, “It’s kinda unreal.”

Harry nodded. “So like, we…we can still be friends?” Harry was unsure, Niall had been his friend for as long as he could remember.

Niall grinned, his teeth white and gleaming in the golden light of morning. “Can’t get rid of me that easy blood sucker!”

Harry slugged him on the shoulder and stared into his friend’s kind eyes. “You saved my life, Niall.”

“Well, technically, you’re dead so…”

Harry slugged him again.

“Actually, you kinda saved yourself?”

Harry looked from Niall to Louis and back to Niall again, waiting for an answer.

“Did you, like…remember calling my name or something? Like in your…head?” Louis ran a hand over his scruff, his eyes seawater blue against the neutral background of their bedroom.

Harry thought for a moment. “Well, yeah. I just…thought maybe I was hallucinating because…like…you actually answered back!” He laughed. “So, clearly that wasn’t real.”

The other two men were silent.

“Right?” Harry prompted, confusion crowding his voice. “Wait. Are you telling me that…?”

Niall and Louis looked at each other and Louis raised his eyebrows.

Niall nodded. “It’s true then.”

Louis stared at Harry with something like complete awe written across his face. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Is someone gonna tell me what’s going on?” Harry could feel frustration building behind his eyes. Or his fangs. Whatever.

“Right,” Louis said, “So, it like hardly ever happens. But apparently you and I share a…telepathy bond?”

“A tele—what?” Harry scratched over his chest idly.

Louis climbed in the bed on the other side of Harry. “We can talk to each other. In our minds.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “ _Cool_ ,” he said reverently, his voice low and amazed.

“Cool is right,” Niall said, “It’s like super rare. Only passed down through royal blood. It’s said that the next pair to share the telepathic bond will be the pair to salvage the vampire race.”

Louis and Harry stared at each other. “Salvage—” Louis began.

“The what—” Harry said at the same time.

Niall laughed and ruffled Harry’s hair. It flopped back down over his face like a wild chestnut curtain. “You lovebirds. Make me sick,” he said, offering no further explanation.

Harry smiled at his friend and felt contentedness cover him like a blanket. It didn’t really matter what the future held, or what he and Louis were supposed to do and not supposed to do. All that mattered is that he was alive (or dead—whatever) and he would spend eternity with Louis.

Louis pulled him in closer as they looked deep into each other’s eyes. Completely lost in each other, they didn’t even hear Niall walk out of the room, close the door and mutter disgusting under his breath.

All they heard was the sound of their lives marching forward in unison. All they felt was the feeling of eternal love binding them together. As Harry fell back to the pillows, letting Louis take control of him and their future, all he could think was, if this was what being dead was like, he was glad to be alive to tell the tale.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, thank you for reading! If you liked it please, please, please leave a comment. They truly make my day, push me to write more and write better.
> 
> Here's the rebloggable post: [TDYK](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/post/156584803455/a-writerwrites-the-devil-you-know-harry-walked)


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